In Pieces
by Suzue0Shayana
Summary: A shattered story about a woman who had lost something important during every part of her life. Will she be able to collect her missing 'pieces? 'Dialogues as sharp as thongs hurting your butt and as incisive as a bitchslap. Reflections as brilliant as a Vegas neon. Cliffhangers as violent as truck drifts' - at least Zhalia says so, you'll check it yourself!
1. Chapter 1: InFLIRTation

_From Zhalia's diary_

**13th July 2009, Saturday, 1:54**

**The Organization Central**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

_Dear diary,_

_Soon I'll become a princess…_

Just kidding. I'm not some five-year-old to start my diary like that; it's not even pink and it's neither fluffy nor scented.

There's a grain of truth in this sentence, though. I just should have added that before I put the diadem on, I'll have to get one prince eliminated. Or one annoying frog, if you prefer.

But let's not put the cart before the horse. I have to sort this out myself because I still can't believe that after three years of inconclusive work I'm finally heading towards something.

It all started when I was sitting in Klaus' Prague office and observing how a huge, yellow slug crawled across his wiry hand. The researcher scratched the mollusk's bare, slimy skin with his long, wrinkled fingers, just like most people would scratch their favorite pet. But Klaus didn't look as if he had enjoyed it, at all. Just the opposite, he seemed discontent, and it was not because of the slime left on the sleeve of his claret shirt. The man finally got impatient and, with just one flip, he shook the slug down to the open jar, which, despite all the obvious signs, didn't contain water.

'A failure, again. It does not even sting', he murmured, screwing the lid and observing the slug, which now did not look like a big boil on his hand, but resembled a gigantic jelly instead, levitating in the mysterious liquid up and down, and around, and again, and so on, hypnotizing… It was hard to take one's eyes off it. However, Klaus managed to do so and then noticed that the files which he had given me a moment ago had been lying on my lap safely for few minutes.

'Aren't you reading?', he growled, piercing me with his greenish-brown right eye, enlarged monstrously by the monocle thrusting his lower eyelid.

'What for?', I answered with another question, throwing the papers back onto his desk lightly. 'I already know everything I should. Don't forget that it was me who collected the information from the Huntik records.'

'Except where he has been hiding for last three years', he said. 'That DeFoe paranoid had to guide you.'

I shook my head with all the loftiness I could have gathered – despite the pretense, this comment hurt.

'He got lucky, that's all. If I had bumped into those kids…'

'Exactly', Klaus interrupted me roughly. 'If you had. But it was DeFoe who caught all three handsome birds at once…'

'He hasn't yet', I corrected dismissively, laying back on my chair. 'I'll preempt him, you've got my word. That freak who smells conspiracy everywhere doesn't stand a chance against me.'

'I hope so', Klaus mumbled with dissatisfaction; he'd like to see the results of my actions instead of just me talking about them.

'You said yourself I'm better than he is', I stated just to pacify him a bit. Guys love when you invoke their wisdom and shrewdness.

'Indeed', Klaus' furrowed mug, an ideal inspiration for all the Frankenstein's monster films, lightened a bit (which is hard to notice if one doesn't know him well, because his face always looks as if it was twisted in a grimace). 'We do not have to lie to ourselves, Dante Vale is not a superhero without Achilles' heel', he speculated snootily while I was playing with the edge of my bandanna, pretending that it's madly interesting. As if I didn't had a clue what he was talking about, even if I delivered him most of the currently analyzed information myself. 'He is only human, of course, highly intelligent, clever and dangerous in battle, but still a mere mortal. And a man, and those, as we both know, have their flaws… They like women very much, for example.'

'Or other men, alternatively', I barged in. I was getting bored with this speech, I wished we could just get to the point. 'Young boys, children, dogs, ducks, sheep…', I enumerated casually.

'He is a standard case, no aberrations', Klaus summed up dryly. 'And we can therefore lure him with a very suitable bait.'

'I love your compliments, Klaus', I repaid him rattily. '_A bait. _Sweet, really.'

'Zhalia, no one would deny that you are already a young woman, beautiful and alluring, aware of your advantages', he tried to placate me with his flattery. 'Dante Vale would be handicapped if he ignored it.'

'Well, that's better', I smiled archly.

'However, it is your knowledge and commitment to this matter that are your main assets', he added unnecessarily.

Well, finally it became clear why they chose me – I wasn't appointed the Organization Beauty Queen, just an android perfectly programmed for this job.

'Klaus, remember that: If he's some kind of a scabby old fogey, I'll kill you', I warned him, underlining this threat with a bloodthirsty eye flare.

'DeFoe states he looks pretty well', he murmured – not because he was moved by my warning, but for peace and quiet.

'In men's dictionary, 'pretty well' may mean protruding ears or smallpox stains', I snarled, crossing my arms. 'Besides, that's a bit general, and in DeFoe's mouth it sounds even less trustworthy. What?', I gave back his incredulous, irritated stare. 'Do you think it's so pleasant to plan bouncy-bouncy with someone I haven't even seen?!'

'You found his photograph in the database', he stated with annoyance.

'Yeah and it was taken three years ago', I reminded him. 'Many things could have changed since then. For example, his center of gravity.'

Klaus furrowed his brow, not getting the allusion.

'He may have put on weight', I explained mercifully. 'Get a beer belly, a double chin. Or go gray. He's not the youngest.'

'He is not even thirty years old', Klaus jawed me; oh well, that's a sensitive matter for the old geezer. 'Dark-haired', he tried to save the day, digging into his memory and drawing out details which were insignificant for men. 'He wears a brown duster. Quite tall. Has a beard.'

'Oh great', I sighed excessively. 'I hate bearded ones.'

'What's the difference?', the old man snorted, annoyed with my female whining about the topic considered unimportant by him.

'Fundamental', I responded trenchantly. 'You won't be scratched by those bristles like a wire scourer. I don't use pumice for my face… and other sensitive body parts', I added euphemistically, earning another disgusted glare from Klaus. 'Your description doesn't put me in an optimistic mood. I'd rather check him myself. However, if I had an actual photo, it'd be much easier to negotiate the price…'

'Zhalia', Klaus said it solemnly and way more pleasantly than before, perhaps because he sensed my attitude towards this whole mission, demanding a big sacrifice from me. 'It is a chance for both of us. The Professor…'

'Alright, alright', I turned him away; I know his arguments too well. 'What am I supposed to pull out from Vale, apart from the equipment from his pants?'

'Everything', Klaus said greedily and his eyes burned fanatically. Maybe I'd have got scared if I wasn't used to it. 'Everything you will be able to. He is Metz's protégé, his favorite hound. The Foundation's leading agent, the pride and joy of Huntik. He has got thousand pieces of information in one finger.'

'Couldn't we just have a rummage around his nut?', I proposed with dislike. 'Can't we get along without bag of tricks and putting out? I'm not a fireplace that needs to be cleaned from ash and dust', I added caustically.

'Few squadrons tried to capture him already, with no result', he shook his head. 'He is a real beast, a machine. There has to be a weakness, a loose screw. The statistics lead to the conclusion that a man gets destroyed the most easily by a woman. You got chosen, we decided that you would suit his tastes the best, appreciate it', it didn't sound like a request, rather like an order.

'I'd appreciate it more if I didn't have to screw with him', I said with unwillingness, wincing in disgust.

'You will do everything he wants in order to squeeze the information out of him', Klaus reserved providently, leaning forward to me and piercing me with his gaze like a butterfly in the showcase. I turned my head aside, but I couldn't run away from his persuading voice. 'You will be at his beck and call, even if he has got a huge appetite. Be sexy, seductive, unforgettable. He has to adore you and to desire to give you his soul, let alone few Huntik secrets…', he carried on with a dreaming expression, tapping his fingers, as if he looked forward to the moment when the Foundation mysteries would get into his hands. 'Crush him like a lemon. Take advantage of him. Make him do anything you tell him. But do not forget he is only a prey. Treat him like a customer who has to be pleased to pay lavishly. With his own skin', he laughed so nastily that I heard the phlegm bubbling in his throat. I ignored it bravely.

'You say it as if I had ever taken liberties with them', I threw in just to drown this sound and shrugged. 'It's just some kind of a… mating dance of a praying mantis, using your favorite biological way of speaking.'

'Do not soft-soap me', Klaus snapped tartly. 'Ryder… danced with you, however, you did not bite his head off.'

I turned away, trying to look as if it didn't affect me at all.

'We're just partners with benefits. Nothing personal', I waved my hand nonchalantly.

'I would rather you avoided giving such privileges away to anybody', Klaus stated wryly, pursing his lips into a thin line, as if he had just swallowed a lemon.

'Anybody, anybody', I mocked him. 'At least I had an opportunity to meet Ryder earlier and I knew what to expect, and this guy is only a whole folder of documents about what, where and when he was doing. Strange that no one wrote when he had shits. They treat him like some guru…', I yawned from boredom.

'You must treat him in the same way', Klaus ordered. 'He has to lose his head for you… literally', he smirked at his little joke.

'If I fawn over him too much, he won't for sure', I corrected firmly. 'Can you just leave it to me? I have more experience in wrapping men around my finger, after all…'

Klaus rolled his eyes, but right away he also nodded. I beamed – in my own way, of course, raising both corners of my mouth lightly and squinting my eyes.

'Splendid', I commented shortly, standing up. 'May I go away now?'

'Why? To devise a plan?', he investigated like a child asking about Christmas presents.

'You could say so', I responded evasively.

'You can do it here', he noticed.

'Not quite', I corrected. 'I need my wardrobe. I must think over in which clothes I'll amaze this Vale guy.'

'Does it really matter so much?', Klaus smiled with sympathy.

Oh well, it's only Klaus who prefers his experiments over women and probably only new discovers excite him. I gave him a condescending look, which was enough for an answer.

'I also need some funds', I added lightly.

'What for?', he bristled. Every reference to outgoings make him angry.

'For a beautician, hairdresser, new underwear', I enumerated tirelessly. 'How am I supposed to be effective without it?'

'You look well already', he insisted.

'Does he have to fall into our clutches immediately?', I asked. Klaus nodded. 'So I don't need to look good. I must be astonishing. Stop whining. It'll pay off soon, promise.'

'I have a feeling that it is only an excuse to let you have some pleasure from this', the old geezer growled with anger, handing me a credit card.

'That's right', I laughed disrespectfully, hiding it in the pocket. 'I guess I deserve it in return for blood, tears… and lots, lots of sweat, don't I?', I added suggestively, stretching my back just to expose my smooth moves.

'If Vale equals to Ryder, you will get your payment in kind', he responded as suggestively and, in addition, meanly.

'This spite was unnecessary', I raised my brows haughtily, sending him my infamous cold glare. 'I'm not approaching it emotionally and I don't expect to have much fun. Especially because this buck will probably come out to be a typical male overfilled with testosterone and convinced of his own deadly masculinity… Like every pro.' I shook my head, somehow I didn't really want to think about it. 'Besides… It's really HARD to come up to Ryder's', I added naughtily with a gremlin-like smirk. 'I'm going, I'll prepare for the hunt.'

'Just do not overdo it', he warned me. 'If you look too perfect, he will not believe you are on a mission, more likely in the spa.'

'That's better for me', I assured him with self-confidence which could have been taken as pride. 'He won't expect what awaits for him… and then…'

'And then?', Klaus repeated urgently, but his face indicated that he knew exactly what I wanted to say.

I returned this mean grimace. In fact, he couldn't have predicted the end. I pointed at the top of his desk.

'You should name this slug Vale', I encouraged him.

'Why?', he got surprised, throwing me a suspicious stare.

CRACK!

The jar exploded, splashing the transparent liquid all around and sending pieces of glass flying. Klaus quickly raised a guard around himself; it stopped the glass splinters, which fell onto the floor, and the drops of sticky gung, flowing down like an exceptionally glutinous rain. Right in front of the old man's eyes landed also a shredded, yellowish slice with a reddish edge, which slid down the spherical barrier lazily.

'Because he will end up the same', I dispelled the doubts, lowering my raised hand.

When I was leaving, I slammed the door so heavily that the remains of the slug peeled away from the cover with a smack and landed on the floor with a sloppy sound. I couldn't hold back a smile. Bravo, Zhalia. Nice performance. Quite nice.


	2. Chapter 2: First Contact

**13th July, Saturday, 12:54**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Definitely the most pleasant part of my… SPECIAL missions are the initial operations.

I like to get well-prepared for this kind of jobs, and because after three years of detailed intelligence I have all the knowledge I need, I don't have much work to do; I just need to gather my strength to put my plans into practice. There's no better way to do so than morning visit in the beauty parlour. I simply love being pampered by those perfect Barbie dolls who fawn over me all the time when I am sitting on the professional, leather chair (which doesn't roast my butt even in the worst heat; probably I was created for luxury, only fate forgot about it on my birthday!). By the way, even if I hated it, I'd go there anyway – I can't imagine fighting with the effects of spending last four weeks in the Saudi Arabia on my own. I hope you don't expect me to pluck my eyebrows during a journey across the murderous desert?! And I doubt Vale likes Brezhnev-like type of girls.

Well, the beauticians are paid for something, so I left the makeover of my tattered looks to them. I can't say anything bad, it was worth it! Leaving the salon, I can't stop myself from smiling with satisfaction and touching my hair with content. Yeah, I get rid of them too, because I grew over with fur like a Polish sheepdog. The hags frowned a bit on the earphone I had in my right ear and my refusal to take it out, but they probably saw worse oddities. How many people is addicted, even to the music?

Eventually, the earphone didn't disturb them, as I notice with acclaim after closer examination. I like the feathering, I'll probably let it stay. Though this strand on the forehead tickles my nose a little. I won't brush it behind my ear, because it would ruin the flirty charm of the hairstyle. I couldn't send mysterious stares from behind the artistically unruly lock. I don't know how it will work with more complex movements, but I will try not to hit the walls.

I brush the glossy hair away from my arm nonchalantly, but vigorously enough to let the sunlight glitter in them. Few teenagers turn around to look at me in awe. And that's what I wanted to see! Even if my first victims are only seventeen at most. What can I do? It's due to the season. The streets are full of kids and teenagers celebrating the end of the exams and the holidays knocking to their door with all their crazy enthusiasm – and bumping into me when I try to force my way towards more solitary areas.

I'm glad that I ran away from the crowd before the wave of spontaneous delight took me and washed away closer to the Old Town. I'm heading in the opposite direction, to the neighborhood of the Prague Castle, choosing the most secluded, narrow path. Just in case if I seemed suspicious for anyone.

'_Zhalia', _a cracking, male voice appears in my ear, '_I hope you're ready. You should be nearby now. We are entering in ten minutes. Don't be late, we would rather not play with them for too long._

'_Relax, teddy, I'll be there in a sec', _I smile to myself with satisfaction. Nevermind I can't say it out loud because he won't hear it.

I look around to get sure I'm alone and then I take out the earphone, then I throw it onto the sidewalk and crush it with my shoe. Just in case. I would prefer it not to get into the wrong hands. Especially when I'm so close to the region of Huntik agents…

_Oh my, _I sigh with unduly, with pleasure, feeling the excitement taking over me at mere thought about events awaiting for me. Such an adrenaline! And that's only for playing an actress!

**The same day, few minutes earlier**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Dante couldn't say that he was a very picky person. Just the opposite, he adapted easily to most of the situations, ignoring the inconveniences. However, there were also those going too far for him to stand.

And babysitting was one of them.

It didn't help that those kids were both fifteen now and, as it could've seemed, had some sense in their heads. It turned out that it wasn't enough; on the first day of their acquaintance they got him into a mass of troubles. The Organization next to his door, a forcible accommodation in Sophie's mansion, away from his own well-known space, then a quarrel with a fanatic bodyguard and another assault from DeFoe's buddies, which he paid for with a quite large burn on his chest as a result of shielding a damsel in distress, then a night flight to Prague… He couldn't complain about lack of adventures. How come some people always seek a thrill when the others get it even without trying to? He couldn't have even gone to the groceries' not to find a runaway snotnose and his persecutors on his own yard…

Well, but he wasn't a real snotnose… Though Dante had itched to throw him above the wall to the nearest canal for disturbing his daily peace on his calm (at least for three years) territory, something stopped him… that power emanating from the boy, or rather from the amulet, glowing palely through his chest pocket. Vale had known what it meant, and he had had a hunch that he couldn't have ignored it. He wasn't wrong. The boy's surname was Lambert, after all… and he brought him Eathon's journal. When Dante saw it, he was overcome with shock mixed with… yeah, with what? Anxiety? Excitement? Joy? It was hard for him to decipher. He had been holding a priceless course of knowledge… very dangerous in the wrong hands. Not even Lok's, who had been passing it by for so many years. DeFoe's hunt showed that the Organization would go as far as killing a child just to get the notebook. And that was a little bit too much to handle for a private eye, a defender of justice in a sense.

Could he really ignore the secret getting into his hands? It was rather a rhetorical question. He didn't have a choice. He had to act, and quick, because Lok apparently wanted to shift the responsibility on him; he couldn't let it happen, even if he really wanted to. Of course, he would rather not involve Lok into all of this, he preferred working alone… but he couldn't also let the pack of rascal chase Eathon's son. After all, they don't care that Lok 'doesn't want to get involved'; he was already a part of it and any explanations would change that.

Well, probably he could stand the snotnose, in fact he wasn't a big problem – maybe only for himself, constantly tripping over his own legs (too much video games, too less real exercises, as Dante concluded). Although he showed a large-scale helplessness with learning powers, it seemed like he had been meant for summoning Titans, and it was his main asset. The troubles started when his schoolmate appeared. The girl, as it turned out to be, had some experience (at least theoretical) with the Titan world, which she immediately proved, helping them get rid of the Organization. Obviously, Dante appreciated her efficient action, but he didn't really liked the way the teenager spoke with him. Too much familiarity, too less acquaintance… Sophie intrigued him mostly due to her surname, famous in the Seeker world; she herself didn't mean a lot to him. Though the fact that she had invited them to her house really made few things easier – he hadn't had to look for a suitable hideout right away. However, he suspected that he would have to pay for it. He wasn't mistaken. If it only meant searching for Lok's father, he would handle it somehow. Unluckily, he also had to accept the companionship of two over-fervent newbies. The only thing to sugar the pill was the reward Sophie was lavishing him with in exchange for treating them as if they real Seekers. AS IF they were. They had a looong, looong way to it.

Not only Metz, but also Cherit told him to be understanding. The small Titan immediately took a liking to the young boy, probably due to the sentiment for his friendship with Lok's father. Sitting in Lok's bag, he seemed quite content with entertaining him during the flight to Prague. He was also very polite towards Sophie, besides, it was in his personality that he didn't like to hurt anyone. And Metz… When Dante told him through the holotome about his find, the German's sunken eyes brightened strongly. He entreated Dante to get involved into the case with all his heart. It had been a while since he seemed so lively… Looking at him, Vale couldn't refuse. And he really swore to do his best. If it could help Metz somehow…

He shook his head and met the expectant stares of the couple of teenagers. Oh well, so he should act like a teacher now, hm? He wasn't willing to do so. He had the whole plan settled in his head and was sure it would work… that it could work, if only he could do it alone. But with such an uncertain team… All that left him was explaining everything precisely and hoping that they wouldn't screw anything.

'Seekers, we have a mission', he stated officially; it sounded like an intro for a adventure series, after which the appropriate music plays and the action continues for next thirty minutes, but he couldn't do much about it. He wasn't very good at starting speeches; until now, he hadn't had to.

He put the holotome onto the table and raising his hand above the device, he gave the first order:

'Show me the Prague central cemetery.'

'How cool is that?', Lok made a blunder at the sight of the transparent mock-up arising from the open holotome. 'A hologram?'

'Not quite', Sophie interrupted, sitting on the edge of the table and finding an opportunity to boast about her knowledge, unavailable for the boy. 'It's a holoTOME, Lok', she accentuated. 'Seeker groups like the Foundation use them to plan missions, gather information and analyze Titans', she enumerated lightly, playing with the greenish miniature of the cemetery.

Dante thought that for now it would be enough for Lok.

'Based on the information Sophie gathered, our goal is the tomb of the wise man of Prague, Jodis Lore', he continued. A card with a detailed illustration and a inscription appeared above the holotome. Dante caught it and read: '_Mission: Golem of Prague. Reach the Prague central cemetery. Find an access to Jodis Lore's tomb. Gather clues about the Golem.'_

The holotome zoomed the gate and three figures standing next to it.

'After dark, we'll enter through here', Dante pointed at the gate which their lookalikes crossed.

'Now that's what I call 'interactive'!', Lok stated in awe. 'I bet you can play killer video games on this thing!'

'Lok…', Sophie rolled her eyes. 'Can't you be serious just for a while?', she lectured him, seeking support in Dante.

Dante furrowed one eyebrow. He started to feel pity for Lok knowing Miss Perfect for so long. To be reproached and pushed around over and over again... Tiresome. He intended to imply subtly that the girl didn't behave much better than her peer, but he was distracted by a short impulse of anxiety – not from his own body, but he certainly felt it. Strange. Maybe it's a punishment for teasing brats.

'If there really is an underground area, it can't be any larger than this', he came back to the topic. 'It's like we will be relying on small and medium-sized Titans, like Solwing and Sabriel.'

He let the holotome present the Titans to introduce their abilities to the youngsters – he knew them by heart and could repeat without stammering along with the reserved female voice:

'_Solwing: attack – 1, defense – 1, type – Krono-Titan Scout, size – small, special ability – flight. Sabriel: attack – 3, defense – 2, type – Draco-Titan Warrior, size – average, special ability – unaffected by injury.'_

Of course, Solwing! It was him whom Dante sensed! He pricked his ear; it seemed like he heard a hum of quadruple wings outdoors. Good that he left the window open, letting Solwing fly into the room.

'How cool is that?!', Lok beamed while the falcon Titan was circling above the table and finally hung above Dante. He looked at Solwing from under his frowned eyebrows; gray feathers touched his cheek fleetingly when the Titan was making himself comfortable on his shoulder.

'_Troubles?', _Vale guessed.

Like an answer, the two bird's-eye view images appeared in his mind: an elegant man standing under the tree and the other one walking on the sidewalk against a background of the hotel they were in.

'What if the Organization gets wind of our plan?', Cherit got anxious; he layed both paws on the table and was barely visible above it.

'They already have', Dante announced, thanking Solwing for the information.

'You're kidding!', Lok shouted. 'What'd we do?'

'Relax', Dante said, as collected as before. That's the difference between the professional and the newbie. For him, the news about spies weren't surprising. He suspected that DeFoe wouldn't let them go so easily, that's why he sent Solwing to do the scout. 'This hotel belongs to the Huntik Foundation. We will be safe… for a while', he added honestly not to charm them too much.

Sophie didn't seem as preoccupied as Lok. On the contrary, she smiled with the corner of her mouth.

'Oh, it's not like a few Suits would be any problem for you, right Dante?', she added, squinting her eyes a little and placing her arm on her hip. 'Hey, let me show you my idea', she asked, coming closer and leaning over the holotome. Dante scowled at her. Did she really think that she had enough experience to make him treat her like a partner? Obviously, her knowledge had reached quite an impressive level, but she hadn't survived enough real challenges to talk with his like an equal.

Lok gave her and the man a strange glare.

'Hey, I've got an idea', he mumbled, standing up. 'Why won't we take a break?'

Dante itched to catch him with the lasso not to let the boy leave him alone in the big-headed Casterwill presence. Sadly, the lad left the room too quickly, trying to hide his disappointed face. '_Oh great_', Dante rolled his eyes. '_I've got tangled into a love triangle from the teenage harlequin._'

Luckily, his companions were still Cherit and Solwing. The first one didn't have the brightest face as well; perhaps he was worried about Lok's mood. But Sophie was on cloud nine when she could describe her vision of the spectacular action, which, in Dante's opinion, had so many holes and flaws that it resembled a low-budget adventure movie. He didn't say anything, though; to tell the truth, after the first sentence he stopped listening carefully, sinking into his own thoughts, a bit messed by Sophie's chattering. Solwing got infected by his owner's irritation; he shifted from claw to claw, clenching them onto Dante's shoulder.

Suddenly they heard an intense noise. Dante jumped onto his feet, interrupting Sophie, who automatically looked at the bathroom door, where the young Lambert disappeared. Solwing flew to the ceiling; Cherit followed him, ready to rush to Lok's aid, even if the boy only knocked over a closet with towels. It suddenly turned out that the reason of the noise was way more serious - Lok wouldn't have been running away from the closer, but he really dashed into the room, chased by…

Actually, it was hard to compare it to anything normal. It had a huge, thin head with a red crack instead of eyes and unruly hair on the angular skull, small in proportion to its hunched body; a mouth full of teeth and calluses on its back, but the thing that really caught attention were thirty-centimeters-long, thin claws; they appeared to grow out of the thick wrists. If Dante hadn't seen it before, he would have lost his head from shock and fear. But for the top Huntik Foundation agent encountering the Redcap wasn't anything new, so he stood in cold blood.

Right, because the rest panicked immediately. Sophie got paralyzed, staring at the monster chasing Lok and not noticing the one hiding under the closet.

'How did that get into here?!', she shouted a moment before the long claws tightened on her ankle. She fell down screaming.

Dante wanted to help her, but he noticed another ugly jaws coming out from the wardrobe. He kicked its door and pushed it with his back, then he sent Raypulse to Sophie's attacker. The released girl rolled to him and stood up, but Dante couldn't rest on his laurels, because now Lok was in trouble.

'Solwing!', the man shouted over the rumble.

The Titan reacted at once; he dived right before Redcap's eyes and caught its attention, giving Lok enough time to run away. The boy looked around and encouraged by Cherit, he slipped under the smaller table the moment before the reinforcements entered the room. Unluckily, not for them.

'Augerfrost!', the two men in suits shouted, sending two bolts of cold, blue brightness to them. Dante kicked the table, knocking off the holotome. The piece of furniture stopped the missiles, but it broke like a match; and the Suits didn't give up.

Another spell went towards Sophie, but the girl covered herself with the perfect Honorguard (well, it wasn't the best time to show off, but at least she shielded herself!). So what? How long were they going to defend themselves until they would lose their power? The Suits had the advantage over them – they were five against… uhm, also five, but could Lok and Cherit count as fighters, hiding under the table? Damn it, didn't anyone from the Foundation hear that the room upstairs get demolished?! However, if someone was able to help, he would have stopped them at the entrance… The Suits had had to use a trick to get there… So Dante and his team were doomed, surrounded by the enemies, still attacking. If there had only been a chance to confuse them… Dante wondered about using Solwing as a bait, but…

…but suddenly the door exploded.

**The same day, 13:12**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Ka-boom!

Enter the dragon!

I just love it!

Alright, I'll give it a break, 'cause I'm starting to act like an overdramatic teenager while I'm here as a distinguished star! So, where is the red carpet? Hm, probably the walk on my Organization colleagues' backs will have to be enough. No wonder I get the leading role if they're acting so pitiful… The small explosion swept them from their feet, but hey, they could get back together finally! For now they're crawling on the floor like cockroaches instead of playing sinister agents! But nevermind, show must go on. But who will I be improvising with?

A quick glance over the room; a blonde wimp and his Titan, small like a mascot, under the table. So that's the typical klutz and his faithful pygmy comrade, both equally useless. Did Klaus really say that the kid was THAT Lambert guy's son? DeFoe must've mistaken something. I wouldn't be surprised, he's a creep, after all.

Who does this Solwing belong to? To the red-haired boutique princess? Who dresses like that for the missions?! Wearing a skirt barely covering her butt, rather petty and unwomanly, though? If the wind blows the material up, the rest will see her panties for sure. Or maybe that's what it's all about… I shouldn't be shocked. I chose my skinny jeans only to accentuate my curves. But I HAVE something to accentuate, cha!

Alright, alright, but where is… Oh, here. The bearded one. Well, so that's the time to compare Klaus' description with reality. Quickly, before I'll start the real performance.

The beard, as I said, is present. Oh crap, I didn't even know that it's possible to shave like that. I expected a Santa Claus-like untidy tangle, but this one here looks like a carefully planned pattern. Maybe he has an algorithm for that? He'd do better shaving here and there and getting rid of it. When he was younger, he looked like an idiot even without it (I know what I say, I saw his picture!), but maybe now it would be good for him. With such a square jaw having a beard is a bit too much.

Dark – haired – that's right. Maybe more like a brown-haired than brunette, especially when he's standing next to the window and the sun is shining onto his head. Very shaggy, to complete the picture. A late hippie or so! Those longish strands falling onto his forehead and cheeks… Have he ever been at barber's?

Maybe, but he didn't get any advice from a stylist, that's for sure. If he did, he wouldn't wear a shit-colored duster… Really, I have never seen such a rubbish. Perhaps it fits Clint Eastwood, old westerns and Alasca, but in the modern Prague it looks… original. OK, I'll put it straight: it sucks. And what does he have a cloak in the summer for?! Additionally, with a sweater beneath it?! I start to doubt everything I heard about Vale's brains… Is it really him I intended to pick up?! Do I have to?!

Well, I don't have a choice anyway. I still act. Maybe without enthusiasm, but professionally like hell. I make a step forward, mark the target.

'Touchram!'

I sweep the Redcaps from my way with the spell – the power of the blow breaks the window into million glass shatters. My little Gareon takes care of the third one. The sneaky Titan jumps into the air and attacks the monster with beams from his eyes, then he lands onto my arm with his gecko-like limbs. I send him a short praise. The boy gets wired as well.

My pals look at me in disbelief, standing stock-still. What, did they think that I'd fluff it?! I have to be convincing, damn it! They could as well, they play the bad guys, they are expected to spread fear! Instead they let Vale surprise them. The guy observes the situation on the battlefield cautiously and finally finds an opening for himself.

'You shouldn't turn your back!', he shouts before his boot lands on the both jaws. Ouch, it must've hurt a lot. But I have to agree, the blow was effective, and, what's more important, it worked.

Instead of admiring Vale's agility, I should rather take care of myself; I hear a gurgle and rattle behind me. Gareon's victim doesn't want to give up yet. I raise my hand to eliminate Redcap, but…

'Cherit, we have to do something!', I hear the boy; so he will finally move his butt instead of playing a movie extra! Let's see what he can do…

'Ay!', the squeaky voice answers him and a stream of blue and purple energy hits the Redcap right into its chest. The Titan howls croakily unless the power tears him apart with a clunk. Wow, it was a real something… and it was done by this pint-sized, human-talking gargoyle? Gareon moves nervously. Little jealous one.

I don't have time to calm him down, because the two other Redcaps charge. Isn't the glass shower enough for them?! Seems like I will have to reveal more of my Titan resources… especially because Vale doesn't take his eyes off me. A good opportunity to impress him.

'I'll stop you!', the redhead shouts, raising her hand to direct a blow, but the man stops her with a short gesture, giving me another glare, as if he wanted to say: _Go for it_. Do you think I need your permission, honey? Forget it! I know what I have to do and I'm already on my way.

A short swing to gather momentum, the Redcaps are closer and closer… the boy holds his breath, he probably thinks that I'll get pierced by their claws… Watch it, pipsqueak!

I bound deftly and with a pretty jump, I fly above the Suits' Titans, landing softly next to the window. The red one's eyes probably popped out of her head, hm? You won't do such things in a skirt, sweetheart! Wait for it, it's not all… I quickly draw out a right amulet and raise it in front of my eyes.

'Impale, Strix!', I pronounce emphatically.

The amulet releases the energy, which takes the form of two round shapes with proboscises. My helpful worms, which look like a mix of enormous hornets crossed with bloodthirsty mosquitoes, at first fly a bit slowly and lazily just to speed up before the Redcaps' abdomens and cutting them in half like chestnut figurines. Boom – and the Titans are done; they disappear in the golden mist. I observe the glowing flecks, raising my head higher – it came out quite nice.

'Serves you right', I comment firmly; I take care not to let the draft stuff my hair into my mouth. I hate the strands glued to my lip gloss.

For a while, there's only dust falling onto the floor. The Huntik Seekers stare at me without a word. I think so, I must look awesome – a mysterious agent appearing from nowhere and saving the day, standing in the glory, with the enemies under her feet… It would fit some kind of a movie.

If only someone mean didn't spoil it, like now.

'What're you staring at?!', an annoyed male voice breaks the silence.

I hold back any signs of discontent, though a heavy curse would probably relieve me. This dude doesn't have any sense of mood…

'Move already!', Vale insists, standing in the destroyed door and observing us expectantly. 'Sophie!'

'Oh, right!', the girl awakes from the lethargy. She turns away from me, runs for the holotome and presses it to her chest, then leaves the room.

'Lok, Cherit, what's up with you two?!', the man urges the team under the table. 'Come out! And…', he breaks the sentence, looks at me inquiringly.

'Zhalia', I make a short introduction, leaving my triumphal spot and avoiding the burdens on my way gracefully. I call back Strix and Gareon, they are free for now. The scene is cut. Such a pity someone had to screw it up…

He nods his head, ingesting the information. The blond kid passes him by, carrying the gargoyle in his arms. The Titan's eyes are closed, he doesn't move at all.

'Cherit…', the boy utters; his name's Lok, as I remember. 'He's…'

'We'll take care of him later!', Dante hurries him, pushing him behind the door. 'We're making out of here before there'll be more of them! Come on! Down the stairs!'

'And you… both?', the redhead corrects herself. Sophie, I remind myself. I have to be nice for her. If I manage.

'I'll cover the exit', he answers, calling Solwing onto his arm. So it's his possession.

The girl wants to add something, but she is stopped by Vale's strictness. His furrowed brow and tightened jaws show his annoyance clearly. The girl leaves unwillingly.

Dante doesn't move forward, so I have some time to have a closer look at him. Indeed, he's tall; not outstandingly, but he probably reaches the 1.90 meters. I realize that he's pointing at the door (or rather the thing that's left from them) with his open hand.

'You lead', he encourages me; he doesn't frown anymore. 'I'll watch our backs.'

'Actually, I'm also pretty good at it', I state. I can't be too submissive, only natural.

'I noticed', he admits, 'but I prefer traditional solutions: women first.'

Oh, how sweet, really. I'll throw out due to such courtesy… but I don't have a choice now. I thank him with a short nod and use the advantage my position gives me to send him a short, intense glare, after which most men fall for me head over heels.

He's got brown eyes.

And that's all. I don't see anything that could be a symptom of it; of my sight reaching the depth of ego, turning it backwards, changing it completely. Maybe he just masks himself perfectly. I leave him behind and let him play the defender. After all, from this position he can have a better view of my booty!

I run down the stairs, on the landing I bump into Lok. Sophie stands next to him, they both gaze at someone's knocked-down body. The hunk has a 'Security' badge in Czech on his back. I passed him by earlier, trying to get upstairs. And that's me who gave him a blow which swung him from his feet. It's not my fault he resisted so firmly. Apparently, the Darksleep spell my colleagues used didn't work on him.

I sense Dante's presence behind me. He catches his breath to chasten the kids for the delay, but he notices the victim. He forces his way between us (it's not easy, he has broad shoulders), kneels down next to the bodyguard, checks his pulse.

'I've done it already', Sophie barely moves her pale lips. The chick saw someone in that state for the first time or what? 'He's alive. But… there's more of them', she points at the stairs and the floor below.

That's true, there are people lying everywhere side by side. I had to jump over them to get to the upper level. Making their way into the hotel wasn't as easy as my pals thought… They must've had a hard time before they knocked all the workers unconscious.

'We should call the ambulance…', Lok states.

'We don't have time for that', I remind him, pulling him by the sleeve. 'We're running away, remember?'

'But someone can…!', Sophie shouts, facing me and piercing me with a sharp glare. 'They can't be left like that!'

'If we dally here, we'll attract more Suits to the hotel', I explain from the ground floor, 'and it won't help these guys here.'

Dante chimes in and gets up reluctantly.

'Faster we go away, better for all of us', he states with tension. 'Come on.'

'But Dante…!'

'It's also Cherit left…', Lok interrupts her cautiously, looking at the Titan with anxiety.

I know he talks about his state, but I sense another problem.

'We can't go outside with him like that', I notice, peeking into the hall and through the window onto the yard to check if no one takes a walk there. 'Send him back to the amulet to let him regenerate.'

'Cherit doesn't have one', Lok confesses.

What? A Titan without an amulet? It sounds like a mockery… I look at the boy in the way that says: _Not the best time for bad jokes._

'A long story', Dante cuts in, running towards us. 'Let's hide him somehow.'

'I left my bag in the room', Lok murmurs with embarrassment. No wonder he's so ashamed, he came out to be a first-class ninny.

Dante doesn't listen to him, he probably noticed the lack of equipment. Or he didn't expect anything else from the youngster. He's in the hall already and rummages through the closet next to the reception desk, right behind the sleeping concierge's back. Finally he comes back with a basket in his hand.

'We're going on a picnic?', I ironize, watching him with amusement. Imagine, a grown-up guy with a Red Riding Hood's basket…

'Everyone will think so', he shrugs.

'I thought you'd just hide him under your cloak', I cross my arms.

'And that would look even stranger', he mumbles, taking Cherit and placing him into the basket, then covering him with a part of the blanket. Right after that Solwing disappears from his arm. 'Now we can show ourselves to people', he announces, tightening the grip on the handle. 'We'll run unless we spot the bystanders. Then we just walk. And smile.'

'Khehehe…', Lok tests such a smile but it looks as if he had a lockjaw.

Dante sighs.

'Forget the smiles.'

And that's when I'm dying to burst into laughter! What a company… I won't say: Fantastic Four, though.

**The same day, 13:26**

**The park in Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

'Oh crap, oh crap…', Lok says repeatedly, lowering his head to his knees and panting hardly. 'Like in _Men in Black…'_

'Shame they chose the Dark Side of the Force', Dante answers in a murmur, leaving the basket with Cherit on the grass.

'Now we can call the hospital, can't we?', Sophie insists. 'Someone could be injured while falling down. Or fall into a coma.'

'It's not likely', Dante denies. 'The effects of Darksleep fade away after few hours.'

I hope no one saw me twitching. He recognized the spell? Well, well.

'So it's some kind of a power?', Sophie asks with surprise, sitting in the way which makes her underwear invisible.

'Yes. Useful, but harmless', the man assures her. He prefers to stand up in a relaxed pose, with both hands in his pockets. What a contrast with the tension when he urged us to hurry during the runaway. 'I can guarantee that they don't heal it in the normal hospital. If it makes you calm down, I'll send the report to the local Foundation base. They'll delegate Seekers who have some knowledge about such cases. Though I don't think it's necessary.'

'I would be grateful', the girl insists, handing him the holotome. 'Here you go.'

Dante checks if no one saw that, quickly takes the device from her and hides it under his duster. The girl raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

'Let's not display the Seeker technology…', he proposes, drawing out the cellphone. 'Especially in the public…'

He quickly writes a short message. Although his fingers are a bit scratched, as if he was often hurting them, they also seem nimble.

Apart from clattering keys, a muted moan reaches our ears. A small paw sticks out of the basket, drawing the blanket aside. Dante raises his head.

'Hi, old guy', he beams seeing a head with furry ears above the edge of the wickerwork, then he comes back to his text, but now the corner of his mouth is a bit higher. 'I knew you'll pull through.'

'Cherit!', Lok kneels down the Titan's bed. 'You're really alright?', he inquires about it with a mix of relief, surprise and joy.

'Ay', the Titan nods with a light smile. 'I didn't want to scare you. I forgot to tell you that using powers tires me a bit.'

'Next time inform me about such things BEFORE you pass out…', Lok moans, hitting the lawn with his back like a castaway on the lone island.

'The scenery changed', Cherit notices, looking around.

That's true. We covered quite a distance during fifteen minutes, rushing like madmen first through the hotel yard, then the gate and after a short discussion seeking asylum in the nearby park. We didn't slow down unless we saw groups of friends enjoying the weekend and families with small children. We didn't fit any of those categories… but it was proper to act as if we had been, so we finally made a stopover. A sandy alley twists near us and a big oak throws a shadow big enough to cover us all. Besides, it's secluded enough to let Cherit talk with us freely.

'We have nothing to do in the previous one…', Sophie snarls. 'Not much was left from our room when SOMEOENE get rid of it…', she throws me a cold glare.

Cherit's yellow eyes turn to me, as well as the rest's gazes; Lok sits up to see me better. I feel odd with them staring at me this way, I couldn't even escape them, because I have the trunk behind me. But why would I have to run away? Only Sophie looks at me unfriendly. Lok is rather curious, as well as Cherit. Dante stares at his feet, so I don't know what his attitude towards me is. Though his opinion interests me the most.

No one makes a sound. I hear only the wind blowing in the leaves above my head. And a bee humbling; it sits on Cherit's nose before the little one brushes it off sturdily. I won't speak up first. It would mean that I have something to hide… They don't have to know that. I pretend to be relaxed, leaning over the oak and bending my leg.

'So you're Zhalia Moon, the Foundation's new lone wolf?', Vale was the first to break. 'I've heard about you.'

I knew it. He took the bait. Now let's make a good use of it.

'And you're Dante Vale, the Foundation's number one prodigy.' A bit of blandishment, just to stroke his male ego. 'Of course everyone's heard about you…', I add, lowering my voice sensually and throwing him a lingering gaze.

What's so special about his boots that he prefers them over my eyes?!

'So Zhalia… you work for the Foundation?', Lok asks, spoiling the atmosphere… which isn't really suitable for my tricks, anyway.

No, I'm just a cleaning lady. What has your friend just told you, moron?!

'Under contract, just like Dante', I say still calmly and charmingly not to estrange Lok right from the start. He's a male, after all, even if wet behind his ears.

It apparently worked. Lok gives me a friendly smile.

'Thanks for the save', he says gratefully. 'Your powers were amazing. You're even stronger than Sophie!'

The girl gives out an unidentified sound of shock mixed with disgust, throwing him a reproachful glare and then adding another snarl, haughty and offended.

'Errr… d'oh', Lok realizes the gaffe and covers his mouth with his hand.

'I was in town on a mission when I happened to hear about the Organization infiltrating your hotel', I change the topic, as if I was being so nice and saving Lok from troubles. He gives me a thankful smile. He's mine already!

'Ay, you did us good, friend', Cherit admits, raising his tiny thumb. So the male part is all in my pocket…

'I hope you weren't waiting around to be rescued', I add neither playfully nor sarcastically. 'You got lucky. In this world you have to look out for yourself.' An allusion that I was very generous defending their butts.

'We could've managed', Sophie judges firmly. 'At least then we wouldn't have to pay for the windows…', she adds more quietly, but also with more spite.

'It bothers me that the Organization bribes the hotel', Dante interrupts the discussion, sensing the tension coming. 'Could they have a spy in the Huntik Foundation?'

Yeah. You're standing next to her. You'll be sleeping with her soon. And when you'll squeal all your secrets, you'll be killed by her. But I won't tell you that. I don't want to spoil the play for you, giving the ending away.

'Of course they could!', I agree without hesitation. 'Haven't you heard the rumors about the one they call the Professor?'

No, I didn't blow my cover. I was supposed to say so, just to heat the atmosphere a bit. And to check how much they know about him.

'The Professor? Who's that?', Lok wonders. Alright, he's out of the intelligence game. He's not the brains of the group. To tell the truth, nor the muscles, either. He's more like a leading blockhead.

'The leader of The Organization', Dante explains. He probably got used to constant sign of incompetence from his charge. 'Possibly the most dangerous man on Earth.'

Quite vague, but pretty good for the beginning. I couldn't think about something so suitable for an intro and say it in such a gloomy voice. And additionally make a face as if my stomach ulcer had just broken. He did it well. He put them in right mood for the rest of the tale.

'He's one of the world's most powerful Seekers', I continue. 'His collection of amulets and ancient artifact is the largest in history. He manipulates the heads of state as well as his own men with the skill to control minds…'

'So it's like a power?', Lok seeks after the truth. At least he wants to learn something…

'No', Sophie says before anyone can even think about it. 'There's no magic I know that can do that.'

_It doesn't mean that it doesn't exist only if you don't know it, Miss Know-It-All_… I bit my tongue not to make such a remark.

Lok sighs and lowers his head onto his knees.

'What's wrong, Lok?', Cherit asks with concern.

'A guy like that…', the boy starts slowly, 'must be after the Ancient Amulet of Will. I wonder if he crossed path with my dad…'

They all seem to know what is the matter. I also happen to know; actually, it's not the most secured Huntik secret if the Profesor discovered it a long time ago. It was way more harder to lure Vale out of his hideout than to learn the truth about the missing Lambert or the thing he tried to find… But I have to pretend that it's something new for me. I send Dante a inquiring stare.

'Lok's father is Eathon Lambert', he explains sparingly, with respect. 'I'm sure you've heard about that.'

'Oh, right', I nod. 'Of course, it's a well-known story, and a grievous loss, as well.'

Lok tightens the grip on his knees. Cherit peeks at him with sympathy and flies onto his shoulder, placing his fluffy tail around the boy's neck and wiping Lok's eyes with his wing furtively. Lok hides his face in the Titan's fur, as if unintentionally. What a milksop…

'We're searching for the clues which could help us find him', Dante tries to divert my attention from the boy tactfully. 'The first one lead us here, to Prague. In the evening we're going to the central cemetery. Our goal is…'

'Zhalia isn't interested', Sophie interrupted him roughly, staring at me searchingly. 'You said you've already got a mission, didn't you? We won't bother you with ours.'

'Hm, right', Dante clears his throat, embarrassed. 'I got carried away, forgive me.'

'Actually, I've almost finished it', I state, looking at him invitingly. 'If you need support, I can find some ti…'

'No, thanks', Sophie doesn't let Dante say anything. 'We're a four-man team, there'll be enough hands to work.'

What a little bitch. I purse my lips, then I loosen them again. I can't show them such a grimace. I pretend that it meant nothing to me. I leave the spot next to the trunk and stretch myself nonchalantly, hoping that my undershirt accentuates my flat belly. Then I brush away the strand hanging down my face; it comes back immediately.

'Well, if you change your mind', I smile lightly, nonchalantly, to make it sound like a loose suggestion, 'I'll be nearby. I'll leave you my number', I propose Dante, drawing out a pen. 'Do you have any scrap of paper? Or will I have to stain your hand? The lipstick would be better for that', I add playfully.

'Here', Sophie gives me a tissue. 'This should do the job. You won't have to look for the lipstick', she hisses warningly.

I look her up and down. What's her problem? Do I threaten her position of the single female in the pride? I'm sorry, dear. You'll have to deal with it, because I'm going to stay with you longer.

I take the tissue and write the signs carefully. The ink leaks and blurs a bit, so I make the figures bigger to be clear for him. Then I reach the note out to Dante. When he takes it from me, I make sure that my fingertips brush his hand before I move back. He reads the number under his breath to check if everything is correct. I confirm.

'So bye for now', I bid my farewell. 'Good luck. And see you soon, I hope', the last one is said only to Dante; I make sure to flutter my lashes seductively.

I go away, not waiting for the answer, followed by Sophie's murderous glare. When I'm far enough from them and use Rearview, I see Dante hiding the tissue meticulously in his breast pocket. I'm itching to burst into laughter.

So he'll call. Sooner or later.

* * *

Alright, the second chapter!

I'm sorry it took me a while, but writing it in Polish and then translating is a a bit difficult. So please, forgive me for the mistakes, too. I'm trying not to make them, but sometimes they just happen without me knowing it. If I did one, please, tell me about it and I'll correct the sentence.

I am so glad to receive such nice comments from you! I am really touched, as well. So I will try to answer to all of them:

CindyKayla - I always wanted to know how Zhalia get the mission, so... it just appeared in my head. And as you probably noticed, Klaus played with a yellow slug - those slugs appeared in ep. 17, though in my chapter it was the initial version of them.

Kimberley - I'm sorry, but they won't fall for each other right away, as I don't believe in love at first sight ;) But it'll be a complex story leading to the events from the series, so as you know, they will have feelings for each other eventually.

And the guest - I don't have much more to say because I did what you asked for and updated ^^

Thanks again for your support and enjoy the new chapter!

Sha


	3. Chapter 3: The Fantastic Five Now

Hi! How are you today?

I'm beaming with joy! And that's all thanks to you!

Really, I'm so happy about all the positive comments I received... You can't even imagine. Every nice word I read makes me wanna keep going. So I do. When I write knowing that you enjoy my story, it's even more pleasant.

As I did before, I'm going to answer to all the reviews:

- CindyKayla: I'm glad you understand my point of view on Dante and Zhalia's relationship :) And I'm also very happy you like some quotes from the chapter - there's no bigger joy for a writer than being quoted *.* And it's alright that you read the English version. That's why I post both - to let you decide which one you want to read. They are the same story, just translated. The sentences differ a bit due to the translation, but the meaning is the same. You know what I mean, I hope.

- AnonJ: oh my, my Zhalia addicting? That's so kind of you to think so... I try to make her just like you wrote - sassy and mysterious, but also a little funny and ironic ;) I really missed a good amount of sharp sarcasm in the original series. I know it was a cartoon, but still... Luckily I can add some spice to it here ;)

You both mentioned that you look forward to see how Dante and Zhalia's relationship will change. I promise I'll develop their bond interestingly enough to read with pleasure! Especially due to Zhalia's plans for Dante... She's such a femme fatale ;P

- And dear Guest: I think about writing only in English, but I love my native language so much I can't resist it... I hope you understand it. I'm trying to post in English as fast as I can. Thanks for the compliment... but I guess that my English still needs to improve ;)

Oh, and one more thing: please, dear Guests, if it's possible, when you post a comment, write a distinctive nickname, because I'd like to recognize you. You are my readers and I want to write directly to you rather than confusing you with someone else!

That's all for now, and thank you again. You give me strength to write, so I decided you must be rewarded. Here is chapter 3.

Take care and enjoy!

Sha

* * *

**13****th**** July 2009, 13:48**

**The park in ****Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

'Why were you so harsh on her, Sophie?', Lok asked when Zhalia vanished from their sight.

'Me harsh?', Sophie said innocently. 'I don't know what you are talking about.'

'She didn't want to break those windows…', the boy defended. 'Besides, she did it to help us, right? I suppose it justifies her…'

'She didn't even offer to pay off the part of the cost', Sophie snarled. 'As if she thought it was only our duty.'

'We should just thank her for the save that way…', Lok was proving it unshakenly. 'If you want, I'll contribute to the repayment with my pocket money. You'll just have to wait until Monday, I've already spent the last one…', he added more quietly, scratching his head.

'That's not the point!', Sophie got angry. 'It's just… ah!', she raised her hands, then lowered them in a helpless way. 'We were supposed not to let anybody in on our mission yet you almost spilled the beans to her!'

'Zhalia's a Seeker', Lok noticed, 'so she sorta is in it already. And if she hadn't interfered, we'd have been in a spot…'

Sophie pouted her lips scornfully. She didn't find a counterargument for that.

'Such accidental acquaintances don't do any good', she threw in.

'Seekers should obtain as many useful contacts as they can', Dante denied, seeing that he wouldn't avoid interfering. 'You never know when they can come in handy.'

'Why didn't you think about it earlier? We could've asked Huntik agents from Prague to help us', Sophie said with a slight complaint.

'It appeared to me that we will manage in a foursome', he started with emphasis, 'especially with a bit of discretion. However, it transpired that the Organization knew about our plans. That's why I judged that meeting Zhalia works in our favour. Particularly because it turned out quite naturally.'

'Too naturally', Sophie noticed sourly. 'She's on a mission yet she leaves everything and comes to our aid? That's a bit fishy.'

'She said that actually she's been almost done with her job', Lok reminded her. 'Anyway, what's the difference how she got through to us? That's her business. For us, the most important thing is that she helped us with the Suits.'

'Sure, after all, she was 'so amazing'!', Sophie mocked him. 'Even better than me!'

'Oh gee, I didn't mean it!', Lok turned all red. 'I mean that… uhm… she used the Titans I've never ever seen before… and you can't say that this trick with the doors wasn't a real blast!'

'Literally', Sophie remarked tartly, still unconvinced. 'You're so easy to charm…'

'It's not the best time for arguments', Dante broke in before the quarrel had gotten worse. 'We have to decide what we're gonna do now. The sun will set after few hours. Until then, we have to hide somewhere.'

'Why won't we just go to the local Foundation compound?', Sophie asked, addressing him.

'Knowing that the Organization is hard on our heels?', Dante shook his head with doubt. 'We can't lead them to the Huntik hideout. If they found it, they'd wipe it off the map in a few seconds. They've got a huge advantage here, in Prague. Let's not give them the chance to use it.'

'Why won't we go sightseeing?', Lok proposed with zeal. 'I've never been to Czech Republic before!'

'Actually… Me neither', Sophie confessed. 'I've always wanted to visit Loreta and see its carillon…'

Lok apparently didn't have any idea what his peer was talking about, because he only goggled at her.

'Well, in fact I meant Strahov, the biggest football stadium in the world…', he said frankly.

'If you think I'll spend the whole time watching turf and terraces…', Sophie started angrily, putting both hands onto her hips in a way that showed her irritation.

'There's four of us, let's vote', Lok withdrew quickly not to start another oral fight. 'What do you prefer, Cherit?', he reeled up to the gargoyle.

'I have a hang-up about arenas after the Coloseum', Titan stated with distaste, wagging his tail. 'I'd rather go to a more peaceful place…'

Lok puffed with discontent, but right after that he reminded himself that everything wasn't lost yet.

'But Dante, you want to see the stadium, do you?', he turned to his mentor, seeking support. 'Just think about it, the Pink Floyd performed there…', he enticed him with this vision.

Then, in 1994, Dante was twelve and hadn't even got addicted to the music yet, putting sports above it. Besides, during his youth Nirvana ruled. He furrowed one eyebrow; did he really seem so old for them that they rated him among their parents' generation?!

'I choose Loreta', he responded indifferently, ignoring Lok's bright stare; the boy was sure about the win.

'What?!', the disappointed lad moaned, the sparks in his eyes vanished like blown-out matches. 'You gotta be kidding me!'

'It makes no sense to take a roundabout way, we'll stay in Hradčany', Vale decided. 'Sophie will see Loreta, as she wishes, and you'll learn something, too. A bit of knowledge won't harm you. That's the Seekers' most effective weapon.'

'But the holiday's started already…', Lok showed his opinion tooth and nail.

'Not yet, just in two weeks', Dante corrected. 'Besides, one learns the whole life. Especially a Seeker… because otherwise he can lose it', he added warningly.

The boy opened his mouth, thought for some time, shut it, then opened again, and finally he sighed, not finding the counterargument.

'Oh maaaan…', he moaned, giving up. 'Fine, if you're putting it this way… Luckily, at least we're doing something interesting in the evening!'

**The same day, 14:31**

**Loreta**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Dante quickly started to regret that he hadn't chosen Lok's proposition and admired the stadium. He didn't have anything against tours with a guide, but Sophie's constant blabbering ripped the walk off its unique charm, out-shadowing even the beautiful weather, clear sky and peace of the sacral complex surrounding them.

'Oh, just look at those carvings! Did you know that earlier this wall was covered in paintings? Just in the 17th century countess Elizabeth Apolonia Kolowrat paid for the panels we're watching now', Sophie speechified tirelessly, pointing at the next monuments. 'The famous monstrance incrusted with 6222 diamonds was also made in that period…'

A loud beep interrupted her elucidation.

'Lok!', she hissed, turning around with a reproachful face. 'There are chapels around here, you could turn your phone off!'

'Sorry', Dante touched his pocket when the holotome was hidden, 'it's for me. The Foundation. Don't disturb yourselves.'

Not giving them enough time to protest, he left them on the square with the fountain near the small holy house (which, as Sophie informed him, was designed by his fellow countryman, Giovanni Orsi) and hid in the shadow of the simple, smooth arcades. Choosing Loreta instead of the stadium definitely had its advantages – it was visited by less people, so he could expect some privacy. He sat on the low wall, leaning on the partition with his back, and drew out the holotome; then he raised it in front of his eyes and supported it with his knee.

A faint, greenish hologram rose from the open device. At first the view was blurring too much to recognize anything, but eventually the stripes stopped moving and formed an image of a fair-haired man in the prime of life, with a very wide face and flat cheekbones which gave him a straightforward, hale and hearty look of a folk guy. The picture was completed with small, blue eyes and stocky build.

'Dante!', the portly fellow shouted at his sight. 'Finally! What the heck was going on with you?! A moment ago, I received a message that the whole Prague hotel was put into a coma, and you and those youngsters could not be found among the victims! Can you imagine what I've been through?!'

'Nice to see you too, Guggenheim', Vale smirked.

'Be serious!', the man reproached him. 'You've gotten into a scrape again, haven't you?'

'Not voluntarily', Dante said sincerely. 'DeFoe's men must've been spying on us when they sniffed out that we bought tickets to Prague. I sent Solwing for a scout, but I didn't predict that they'd have attacked us in a secured hotel.'

'As if you didn't know that any place can guarantee you perfect safety…', the man called Guggenheim heaved a sigh, loosening his tie. 'However, you managed to get out of it if I can see you all in one piece.'

'Luckily, we got help from Zhalia Moon', Dante said, accentuating the name, and became all ears, waiting for his superior's reaction.

'Oh, so you've finally met Zhalia!', Guggenheim smiled widely.

'Do you know her well?', Dante investigated.

'She works for us. Once we even had a mission together, I've mentioned it to you', Guggenheim added, a bit dissatisfied that his friend had forgotten about that. 'But do I really know her well?', he thought, raising his eyes. 'Hm, well enough to say that she's a brilliant operative. And a very attractive girl', the Swiss emphasized, looking forward again as if he had been waiting for a comment.

'Indeed', Dante murmured laconically. 'Could you send me her detailed dossier from the database?'

'How detailed?'

'At least her skills, Titans, a mission list.'

'I guess I can do as much', the Huntik agent accepted joyfully. 'But you'll have to work for the phone number on your own!', he joked.

'I've already got it', Vale confessed slowly and not so willingly, knowing what would come next.

'Well, well, well!', the fair-haired man laughed heartily. 'Nothing's changed. You're attracting women's attention like a magnet.'

'Give it a break', Dante rolled his eyes, annoyed. 'I just want to make sure that the mission will be successful. And with my current team it's…', he stopped and waved his hand dismissively. 'Nevermind. I have to go to them, I'd rather not leave them in a city full of Suits for too long.'

'Obviously', Guggenheim nodded, his fingers had been dancing on the keyboard for a while. Dante's holotome beeped and brightened for a second. 'Here you go, those are Zhalia's records.'

'Thanks', Dante said shortly. 'I'll try to keep in touch, but maybe it won't be so easy.'

'I can forgive you that if you won't get into any trouble', Guggenheim warned him.

'Can't promise that… See you', he said his goodbye quickly and cut the connection. Guggenheim's face disappeared. A file with awaited document showed instead.

_Zhalia Moon, _he read the bold headline and scrolled down. He stopped at the picture – she hadn't changed much since it was taken, so probably she hadn't been in the Foundation for too long…

_Joined the Foundation on: 13__th__ March, 2006_

Three years? How come he had heard about her so little? Hm, or maybe he didn't listen carefully enough…

_ID: 09724-71-314-079. Status: operative under contract. Base of operation: not determined._

So, a freelancer. She must've simply not participated in enough missions to rise to fame she deserved, according to Guggenheim. Either from lack of time or of willingness.

_Bonded Titans: Gareon; Strix; Kilthane. _

Hm, kinda short list for such a specialist… But not the amount, only the quality counts. Very few in the Foundation could form a bond with Gareon or Strix. He also hadn't met a person who'd have Kilthane. But Zhalia took control over them and, what's more important, she forced them to work with her so effectively that other Titans, as he noticed, were unnecessary for her.

He scrolled down again and opened his eyes wider in shock. The list of spells known by Zhalia was impressive even for him. He stroked his beard, skimming through them and developing greater respect for his new acquaintance, which only raised when he started to pore over her mission reports. She couldn't boast about their amount, but the tasks she had finished definitely weren't the easiest. Agent Moon apparently had a liking to difficult cases and maybe she was wearing herself out because of them, not participating in the playing for newbies. She had thrown herself in at the deep end right from the start… She had to like challenges. And have an immense talent.

Someone like that would be a great counterbalance for Lok and Sophie's inexperience…

Dante closed the holotome and looked at the sky, automatically tapping his fingers onto the device. Finally, he hid it in his pocket. Instead he drew out the cellphone and a tissue folded in half. The leaked ink didn't erase the signs completely, though one of them seemed neither like a nine nor eight. He risked, choosing the first association.

He stood up before he put the phone to his ear, and then he started to walk in circles. Listening to the connecting sound, he planned a strategy. After all, Seeker has one for every occasion. Even something like that.

**The same day, 14:49**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

My phone rings right when I finally got my fries. I know, I know that when you're abroad, you should try local dishes, but Czech cuisine doesn't really suit my tastes. Luckily fast food is everywhere, so I don't have to starve.

I hope it's not Klaus. I ordered my quasi-victims – the Suits (who ran away from the hotel before the Huntik guys appeared) - to report and tell him that I'll contact him later, because I don't have anything to add for now. They whined a bit that first I beat them, then I was treating them like errand boys, but they didn't refuse. Is Klaus really being so impatient not to listen to my subtle suggestions of leaving me alone for a while?

I take out the phone with one hand and open the flip. An ex-directory… but I know who's that anyway. I answer the phone immediately.

'Hello?', I threw in with my most natural, yet charming voice, brining the cell to my ear.

No one responds for a moment, so I have a time to find myself a comfortable place to sit in a niche of a crumbling townhouse out of the main way. I wait patiently. I'm great at it. Just like a hunter prowling to get the prey.

'Hm, good afternoon, Zhalia…', a low, male voice says finally; although it sounds a bit different through the phone, I've already known it. 'It's Dante. Dante Vale', he adds officially.

'Oh, hi. I recognized you.' Or rather: I guessed right before you even spoke. Anyway, I gave you my number, and you're not someone special to resist me, are you?

'I don't want to bother you…', he starts cautiously as if he was trying to check my reaction, too. He didn't seem so shy in reality… If he is going to sneak like that, he won't say it until the evening.

'Need help?', I ask without hesitation.

Silence. A short cough in the background.

'I thought I'd make some kind of intro…', he murmurs, shocked and a bit embarrassed with my straightforwardness. Or his own incompetence with voicing his needs. 'I've got a whole speech prepared.'

'Sorry I spoilt it.' I hope that it's heard in my voice that I'm smiling. 'I just suspected what you're calling for. But don't mind me and keep going, I'll listen to your arguments with pleasure', I add playfully.

'I don't have many of them', he says with disarming sincerity. 'I just need someone more capable than my charges. You know, they're newbies. And with the Organization on our heels… It's a bit difficult to worry about them not getting into any troubles and finding the Golem in the same time. That's why I wondered if you'd be so kind…'

'Alright, I get it', I interrupt before the stream of conventionalities starts to flow again. 'I'll join you.'

'However… it's not an official Foundation mission', he accentuates.

Oh, I understand. So I won't get any money.

'How come?', I ask.

'It's a bit… complicated.' Yeah, like always when one doesn't want to say something. 'But if you really care about the reward, I'll inform Sophie. She hired me to solve this case and she pays for all the expenses.'

The redhead pays him? Huh, a rich preppie if she can afford a secret operative's services…

'That's not the matter', I respond. In fact I really expected that I'd get some cash, but I can't really tell him that, can I? I play an angel of altruism. 'I'm just surprised. You said you seek the Ancient Amulet of Will… The Foundation should pay for the quest of finding the greatest artifact in Seekers' history, shouldn't it?', I try to make it sound as a polite astonishment how one refuses to support the science development, and not like a gibe that Huntik is a bunch of niggards.

'Let's just say it's a private initiative.' Oh crap, all those euphemisms, cultured subterfuges and general terms he uses during the talk piss me off a bit. Just get to the point or shut up already! 'It's possible it'll pay off someday. But if it doesn't suit you, of course…'

'So when are we gonna meet?', I break in 'cause I slowly stop tolerating all his blabbering.

I hear that he lets out a held-back breath with relief.

'The sunset was announced at nine or so. Could you get there before half past nine?'

'I'll come even earlier', I promise solemnly.

'There's no need to, really…'

It sounds as if he was going to ask me for that but couldn't rush me into doing it because of being such a well-mannered, sophisticated and oh-what-an-awesome guy. Yuk. I hate hypocrites.

'I will.'

Then it gets silent. I suppose it's his breath humming in the speaker.

'Your presence will really make many things easier. I'm really grateful, Zhalia.'

Alright, alright, stop it because I really get sick of it, and my fries are waiting and can't go to waste.

'No problem', I respond lightly. 'See you later, Dante.'

'Yes… See you.'

He disconnects. Finally. If we removed half of the blandishments and pleasantries, this talk would last fifteen seconds at most. And my grub wouldn't get cold. Fine, just one thing more and I'll relax. I write a short message and send it to Klaus. Then, with a sigh of relief, I drop the phone to my pocket and reach for the pure potato pleasure instead. I deserve that. And to have the fries going to my tits.

**The same day, 21:28**

**The central cemetery**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic **

The clouds sliding on the sky, dimming the moonlight or covering the full moon completely to leave the area in the reign of mysterious shadows sneaking in the darkness, among moss-stained graves made of gray stone, between reality and nightmare…

And me in the foreground, nonchalantly leaning on the shabby tombstone.

Such an ideal combination.

It would be more ideal if I wasn't standing here alone like an idiot. I don't mind loneliness, I don't have chills at mere thought about the surrounding corpses rising from the dead and catching me by the ankle, I like enjoying the night melancholy in my own companionship, but if I had decided to meet the dream team, they could've shown their ugly mugs already! I hate tardiness. Or rather: I hate the others' tardiness when I got here so punctually.

I catch a short, quickly dimming brightness with a corner of my eye. I hear the gate cracking and a murmur of lowered voices. So, they finally moved their butts! They're getting closer. They're making careful steps; their shoes sink in the soft soil.

'…in the middle of a city!', the blonde sounds surprised.

'That's why all the graves are part on the top of each other; there's no room!', the redhead's sharp, conceited voice responds.

'There'll be room enough for more if you're not careful', I remark out loud, not making a move – so what, let's make those late lazy-butts scared. Maybe they will piss their pants.

The little princess directs the flashlight to me; the brightness stops somewhere at my belly.

'Zhalia!', Sophie recognizes me. 'Are you stalking us?', she attacks me, giving away her discontent at once.

'Take it easy', Dante throws in, stopping her from asking such questions with a gesture. 'I asked her to come, alright?', he explains with a reprimand in his voice.

'What?!', the shocked girl shouts; it takes her a while to accept this info. Oh my, no one told her? I'm so sorry… But it's a bit strange, as well. Does Dante really fear those kids so much to hide his actions from them?

Nevermind, it's not my business why he lets them boss him around (though I suppose it's due to Sophie's account transferring money to his). I approach him very closely, stretching my leg out a little and almost stroking his hand with my fingers, just to reach the border of his intimate space. Enough for him to sense me and get wired by my presence, not enough for us to touch.

'Prague is a hostile place', I explain, letting Sophie feel that I know something about it. 'Foundation operatives have to stay close', I add, raising my stare to Dante.

'Not that close!', Sophie protests energetically, jerking the flashlight up.

Ouuuuch! That little bitch did it on purpose! I raise my hand to cover my squinted eyes; my pupils are shrinking rapidly and very painfully. You'll pay me off for that…

'Come on, Sophie', Lok interrupts, apparently a bit disgusted with his peer's behavior, 'with her help we'll have a better chance of finding the Amulet of Will AND my dad!', he accentuates strongly.

_Oh no, I'm gonna go crazy_, I think, rubbing my lids which still itch a bit. An Italian cowboy, a vain princess with superiority complex and the protagonist right from the teenage soap opera. Damn them all for pissing me off!

'You've some faith, kid', I can't hold back a biting remark. What, if you wanted me to be nice, why did you make me so angry?! 'You must've had a pretty easy life.'

'I DID', Lok underlines, 'but… I'm a Seeker now.'

Yeah, I saw it myself. If hiding here and there during a fight was considered being a Seeker, my career would have started in the early childhood.

'We'll see', I just say.

Dante moves anxiously and turns around, turning his flashlight on. He gets the whole attention now, mine as well. And I've just thought that he got paralyzed realizing that he almost smoothed my hip…

'Jodis Lore's tomb is this way', he says emotionlessly. 'Keep your eyes peeled.'

And that's all for the comment. But from his behavior only, I can conclude that he doesn't like the atmosphere in the team. Shit, I don't want him to regret that he invited me to his jolly group… I have to do something to show my best side. Hope I'll have a chance.

Finding the tomb doesn't take us much time – someone (meaning: Dante!) prepared for the mission perfectly! Besides, the grave differs from the others – mainly due to its size. Besides, it wasn't squeezed by the others, just had some space left around it. People show their respect in odd ways –when you live, you have to fight for your place on Earth, and when you die, you get it nevertheless.

The youngsters rashly surround the tomb, assisted by Cherit who sits on the stone, examining it from above. I'm not spoiling for a work. I'm here not to dig into the earth or wipe the dirty marble with my knees. Dante also plays the boss here. He's got his cheap labor to do the grunt work. His short order: 'Take a closer look at the grave' is enough for them.

'It's just a normal inscription', Sophie notices after further examination, touching the tombstone.

'Lok, wasn't then something in your journal about the Golem', Cherit asks with resignation, sweeping the ground with his tail.

Lok takes out a thick, full of bookmarks, brown notebook, which looks as if it has been drowned in the toilet recently. Yuk.

'I've been trying to make it out, but the page is ruined', he explains, opening it just about the half and directing the light at it. 'I think it says: _blood of the Golem…_'

'The Golem isn't flesh and blood, it's made of clay…', Sophie whispers with excitement. Bravo for deduction. Even little Czechs know it.

To my surprise, she dips her hand into the earth and smears it onto the tombstone. I bet she wanted to remind herself about the time she had Play-Dough. I didn't think she'd like to stain her aristocratic hands.

'Sophie, enough', I say condescendingly, playing with the flashlight's switch out of boredom. 'It's not going to do anything…'

'Just watch', Dante interrupts me halfway.

Hm? What's up? What's with this voice? Am I a puppy on his leash that he allows himself to scold me like that? I throw him a disgusted stare. I hope he catches my grudge, but he apparently thinks that he didn't do anything bad. Moron. I snarl haughtily.

'The clay didn't bring the Golem to life! A word did!', Lok calls back while Sophie is still smearing the tombstone with soil. Well, not really a soil, it's a clay…

'Ay, the word: _truth_!', Cherit joins in enthusiastically.

'Sophie, can you draw the symbol that represents truth?', Lok asks.

'It's a difficult symbol…', the girl hesitates; oh, little grind can't do something?, 'but it goes something like this…'

She makes signs on the still-wet clay. Alright. So, now what? It starts to make me bored. If Klaus didn't rip my head off for desertion, I'd love to go away right now, leaving them alone on those pottery lesson. They're total clods…

I give out a shocked sound when the ground shakes under my feet and the air gets filled with a strange noise, like a draft from below. Sophie and Lok jump to the sides and Cherit flies up.

'It's opening!', he squeals when the marble slides aside.

What?! They did it?!

I just can't believe it. I can't. But this unshaven asshole makes a face as if he didn't expect anything else… and he's not trying to hide it at all. He passes me by without a word, following the kids into the tomb just like that.

Oh no, lover boy. No one looks down on Zhalia Moon without getting punished.

Luckily, Klaus did his best – the men in cloaks are sneaking among the graves, waiting for us to disappear in the tomb. Perfect. I come to the fore with content, leaving the dirty work in their hands. It just pisses me off a bit that Dante puts the descending off. He's been so eager to go and now he's staying behind. Move your ass, idiot, or you'll ruin everything…

'Dante, you coming?', Lok asks.

'Right behind you', he responds calmly, joining us.

The underground smells of wet soil, rotting corpses and waste of animals living there. An odour of decay and death. A great background for upcoming tragedy. But I can't scold, quite a nice lodging for a dead man. Spacious. Only the floor sucks. It's all in spots… as if someone mixed two different colours of plasticine carelessly.

'I smell a trap', I utter under my breath.

'The bricks are made from two different types of clay', Sophie notices.

'There must be a reason…', Lok guesses; our master of brilliant remarks which don't really bring anything into the discussion.

'We're running out of time, so let me explain', the organizer of _The Freaking Dungeon, Inc_. trip forces his way between us and makes it forward without hesitation, ignoring the subtle suggestion that doing so will most likely leave him at least crippled. 'Only step on the lighter ones. The Golem was made of Vltava's river clay, remember? It always drives light', he underlines.

U-huuuu. A cocky bastard or not, he's got some brains, too.

'Dante Vale earns his reputation…', I state with acknowledgment to myself, but loud enough for the others to hear it anyway.

The board with two-coloured fields is behind us, but this game's makers created riddles coming out in a row. When we pass the square hall, we find ourselves in an empty chamber, which is only distinguished from the other parts of the tomb by the simple door. When Sophie presses the handle, we discover it's closed.

'And what we're gonna do now?', Lok gets impatient. I know that the kid was raised in the age of stimulus attacking from everywhere, but does he have ADHD that he can't stand still for a while?

'You can break it with your head if you want', I propose him, 'but it'll be much easier if you are quiet for some time and let me solve the problem in peace.'

Lok observes with fascination how I kneel down next to the entrance and prepare for the subtle art of breaking-in, drawing out a necessary equipment – an ordinary hairpin, easy to buy in every chemist's (de-luxe version) or next-door shop (the economic option). I put it delicately into the keyhole and move it inside, examining the mechanism of detents. It requires a lot of patience and steel-hard nerves, you have to approach it with a sense. It's a bit like cracking my victims open. Every new guy is like a lock which I have to pick in order to get to the content. I know I can do it, so I don't have a reason to be nervous.

'You robbed banks in the past?', Sophie asks innocently, observing me from a distance.

I said: no nerves? I take it back. Everything was alright until the redhead wanted to hear her own voice.

'No, I took candies from the drawers of little girls like you', I answer patronizingly. And it's not a complete sarcasm. I continue my job, though I have to squeeze the hairpin harder, 'cause my hand is shaking a bit; from anger, of course. I'll thrust it into her eye someday, and press right through her brain, I swear.

I hear a quiet beeping behind my back; damn, do they want me to open the door or not?! If they intend to disturb me constantly… Lok's attention also gets caught by something, because he stops following my movements.

'Stay here', Dante says and I hear his boots pattering on the clay bricks.

A drop of sweat slides down my forehead. He'll spoil everything. He was supposed to stand her stock-still, with the whole team. But he somehow sensed that we were stalked. Damn, I had to lead the Organization to Jodis Lore's secrets without any obstacles…

'Where did he go?', Sophie wonders with anxiety. 'We were supposed to stick together…'

'Could you shut up?', I hiss, fighting with the troublesome detent. 'I need only a moment of silence and concentration…'

'This door isn't more important than Dante!', Sophie revolts against me. 'If the Organization traces us here, they'll find him first! Alone!'

'He was protecting the four of you effectively not so long ago, he'll handle it now too', I taunt her due to her panic, though I'm also nervous as hell – they may want to rush to his aid… 'He's a big boy…'

Somewhere from the distance a stifled male scream, multiplied by the echo, is heard; then voices ringing under the ceiling. So they're here already.

'I told you something'll happen to him!', Sophie shouts, running away and disappearing in the darkness.

I don't move. DeFoe will deal with one prissy girl.

'Shouldn't we follow her?', Cherit asks with hesitation, yanking Lok's collar. 'Seems like Dante's really in trouble…'

'Oh, screw it!', I stand up in fury, drawing the hairpin out the lock. 'How do you expect me to work when you have an urge to snap you mouths all the time?!'

Lok doesn't respond, just pulls me by the sleeve, forcing me to run.

Oh, great.

**The same day, 21:59**

**Jodis Lore's tomb on the central cemetery**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Simply great.

If I knew earlier that twenty hours after the official announce of my mission I'd be sitting up to my ears in stinky clay, dirty like a swine, fighting with huge clay hands and trying not to choke after sinking under the surface, I'd have never accepted. Even knowing that the clay is a wonderful beauty mask.

But how could I know that Vale's pals are a bunch of idiots, and he can't even control them?! Those blockheads are barely avoiding the walls when they're left alone, hard to believe they're still alive. The blonde is the first Seeker I know who can't use Boltflare. In addition, it's him who put us in this mess, activating Jodis Lore's trap. And he was said: _don't step on the darker bricks_! Now he can put his efforts to summon Freelancer into his ass, I don't care.

I'm talking so much about the kids incompetence, but Vale is good-for-nothing as well. First, he let Grier catch him and then he stood idly when DeFoe aimed at him. Well, I have a feeling that losing consciousness after being hit by the acid is like a break for him after bickering with his dumb subordinates. Taking a nap, damn it, and leaving me with this shit on my own.

DeFoe isn't much better. He was supposed to take the journal, but when he saw it's trashed, he didn't want to stain his fingers, freaking fop. He'd rather watch me getting my hands dirty, and he only claimed the rewards and had fun taunting that he'd hurt Dante and observing Sophie in rage, while Lok tried to defend her. DeFoe recognized me, I know it, however, he seemed to enjoy seeing me in the large swamp without a chance to get out. We've never got along well and now he holds a grudge against me because I used Raypulse on him not to blow my cover. Shame Kreutalk shielded him. His hair would burn nicely.

I attack the mud hands with fury, imagining that they have faces of DeFoe, Lok, Sophie, Dante… all those twits whose mistakes I have to fix. This one here ruined everything, spotting the Organization here. If he didn't do that, everything would have gone smoothly – DeFoe would have gotten the info and reached the Golem before us without any interaction with Huntik. It'd look as a coincidence. And now… They'll probably grow suspicious. Besides, I don't have a clue how to naturally save 'my' group now without giving away my association with the Organization and making the dumb Suits understand that I'm doing it only for the sake of my mission; if they don't get it, they'll probably cause a lot of trouble.

I peek at the three agents… and I have the impression that Dante moved. I watch him carefully. No, it's impossible. The acid DeFoe used turned the stones into a pulp, and it must've make the clothes eat into Vale's skin… He got hit right in the chest. There's no way he could get up.

But he does. Lok also notices it, he gives out a quiet sound of surprise. Now we both observe how Dante leans on the floor with both hands, then stands up slowly, with his arm placed around his torso. He falters a bit, murmurs something under his breath. A golden aura covers him, getting under his skin. Oh, he used Everfight. Good.

He prowls to the Suits who make fun of our desperate attempts to fight with the swamp. I also itch to mock them when two of them land on the opposite walls, and the woman also bumps into the third man, not letting him finish the spell.

'Not bad!', I comment with acknowledgment, though the clay almost fills my mouth.

'Any time you want to get us out…', Sophie giggles, looking at Dante with glistening eyes. Girls like superheroes.

'Yeah, let's check out that room', Lok reminds us, staying on the surface due to the brick on the wall he's leaning on. 'I bet those guys missed something.'

'As you wish.'

A rope stretches out from Dante's hand; Lok manages to catch it before the end sinks in the mud.

'Alright, now hand it to Zhalia and Sophie', Dante advises.

The girl's face falls. What for now? 'Cause he said our names in that order? What does she expect, really? She's fifteen and has an insignificant waistline, which she tries to underline with belts, narrowing, pleated skirt, whereas I've got the better effect without fashion tricks.

Lok forces his way towards us, binding us both with the rope. Sophie's mood doesn't get any better when he starts with me. So what? I'm closer. He won't take a roundabout way just to rescue the princess first.

Dante stamps his foot on the flooring, checking if it's not too slippery. At the same time, he wraps the rope around his forearm not to let it slip away. Then he braces his feet against the floor and pulls the rope with all his strength. He seems to have some, as after few moves the three of us manage to crawl onto the landing.

'At last…', I sigh with relief, laying my dirty booty on the floor. I brush my hair with my fingers, smearing the clay on them. What the hell have I gone to the barber's for?! I hope that after such a treatment my roots will grow stronger, at least…

To bring myself comfort, I notice that Sophie looks as if she had a hairdo made by the Himba tribe, with her strands sticking with slime. Lok, on the other hand, resembles a kappa, all greenish-gray and cloggy.

Only Dante keeps up his appearance, so I'm a bit surprised when he reaches his hand out to me. Does he really want to get soiled?

'I dragged you into a pretty bad story', he starts. 'I'm sorry, it wasn't supposed to look like that.'

'I was prepared', I respond, accepting his help. He's got a strong, confident grip and a rough skin. He lifts me up as if I was a feather; though I don't really weigh much. But he pulled the three of us out of the mud, it makes approximately 150 kilos…

Boom!

I jump aside, feeling the cold stream flowing down my body; it washes down the clay, but also leaves my clothes dripping wet.

'A-a-re you n-nuts?!', my teeth chatter with the cold, I tremble and shiver.

'You were covered in clay', Sophie shrugs; despite her original styling, she seems satisfied.

I snarl haughtily, rubbing my arms, but it doesn't really work, even my underwear is heavy with the water.

'It wasn't very clever, Sophie', Dante remarks with reproach. 'There are better ways of cleaning.'

'Any example?', the girl responds truculently.

The man accepts the challenge.

'Stand together and I'll show you.'

I approach the other two unwillingly. Of course I stay closer to Lok than the red monkey, of two evils, I prefer stupidity and naivety over tantrums. Dante makes a quick gesture with a clenched hand and casts a wave of pure cerulean energy at us. We falter a bit, but after a moment the power wipes off every single piece of dirt from our clothes and faces.

'Wow!', the boy is astonished. 'What was that, Dante? Like a huge hairdryer!'

'Just a useful trick', he winks to Lok. 'It can be done that way, not by force, Sophie', he lectures the girl.

The embarrassed girl looks aside.

'Fine, but where's Cherit?', Dante examines the chamber.

'He probably chases DeFoe', Lok guesses. 'He'll trace him for us.'

'So, we will finish our part of the plan', Dante decides. 'Come on, let's move!'

**The same day, 22:14**

**Jodis Lore's secret laboratory in his tomb**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

The only benefit from all that mess was that Kreutalk's acid melted the lock and now we get to the wise man's laboratory with ease. Unluckily, we won't find the key to the Golem's attic, DeFoe took it. I don't know why we are having a rummage around this old junk, but the rest seems fascinated with it.

'This is Jodis Lore's study, alright… Look at all this!', Sophie gets excited, taking her courage back after being reprimanded by Dante; I guess she's trying to fix her mistakes in his eyes.

He doesn't pay attention to her, though. He talks with Lok about his Titan; thanks to that I get to know that the pipsqueak doesn't show only Freelancer off. He inherited Kippering after his father. But what's the deal if he's hopeless and doesn't hold any promises for the future?

From Dante's rare sentences, I also learn that his knowledge about Titans is quite big and he knows how to bequeath it. In addition, his advices reach Lok's mind. He shows more patience towards him that I assumed. He was too lenient for Sophie, as well. I'd rather give her a wetting with the whole Niagara fall. And wouldn't dry her. As a punishment. But he just pointed out her mistake and came back to his duties. Well, she didn't wet his pants, so it's easier for him to forget about it. I'm not going to forgive her. She'll pay me off someday.

'There's nothing here', I remark, putting the book back onto the pile. I leafed through it only out of boredom.

'Maybe not', Dante says, sliding his finger across the table. The shape of the key which lied here before is clearly visible in the thick layer of dust. 'Zhalia, I'm going to need your help.'

What would you've done without me? I nod.

'Lok, Sophie, go find Cherit', he bosses them around. 'It's not over yet.'

Oh no, of course not. It's only the beginning. For the first time, I'll stay with Dante alone. And I hope I'll make a good use of it…


	4. Chapter 4: Tricks And Threats

Hello everyone!

Thanks again for your wonderful comments, they always make my day! As usually, I'll try to respond to all of them, but please forgive me if I forget about something!

- AnonJ: I'm glad you find my Zhalia funny and sarcastic, I also like her that way and I love to make her speak her mind, even if it's just in my version ^^ And I'm very grateful that you understand my decision of slowly developing the bond between the heroes. I also think that neither Zhalia nor Dante are people who would fall head over heels after the first meeting. And I can promise you that I'll update. It can be a bit hard since October, but I'll do my best. And September will be full of new chapters for sure :)

- BlueBeelzeblub: hi, nice to meet you! It's cool that your friend gave you the link to my story, especially when you enjoy it :D Say thanks to him/her for me, alright? I also wondered how they will act being alone without the kids around, but as they barely know each other, I couldn't overdo their actions... And don't make me blush, me as good as a native speaker? all red It's so kind of you!

- Jess: I'm starting to worry I dragged you into addiction ^^ But nevertheless, I love reading such comments! That way I know that you like the way I describe the characters and lead the plot (I know it's settled, but I still have some time between the scenes to fill).

- Kimberly: I think you get my point as well :) I also think Dante and Zhalia were attracted to each other - like two adults just meeting each other. They judge each other by the first impression. I think both of them are quite attractive, so it's normal for them to be interested in each other. At least I think that Dante, as a grown-up guy who has his needs, was. And in my story, Zhalia is led by her duties, but Dante doesn't detest her completely.  
I intend to write more chapters, not only 26. As you see, one episode took me almost 4 chapters, and they still haven't returned to Venice! There is also the second series to write about, and I have the events after that planned. I hope I'll have time and your support to write it!

- StarTime101: Thanks for favouriting In Pieces and welcome! I hope you'll say something to me someday ;)

- CindyKayla: though you didn't write a comment, I have a word for you. I hope you didn't dislike the last chapter so much to stop reading my fanfiction...

By the way, I have a question for you: do you think the chapters are too long? Or it takes too much time for me to finish one episode from the animated series? I try to write detailed comments and make it funny, but maybe it annoys you. I'd love to know. And if you have any remarks, please, just tell me and I'll try to consider them.

I hope you didn't skip such a long intro (or did you? Ah, I write too much... I'm probably a scribbler...). I won't hold you back any longer.

Enjoy the next chapter and take care!

Sha

* * *

**13th June 2009, Saturday, 22:18**

**Jodis Lore's tomb on the central cemetery **

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Lok and Sophie's quick steps were slowly getting quiet somewhere in the distance. Dante breathed a sigh of relief; he was certain that convincing them to split up into two subdivisions wouldn't be so easy. Knowing the girl's attitude towards their new teammate, he expected a long, fierce discussion which could wake up the dead. If they started to argue again, Jodis Lore probably wouldn't stand it and rose from his grave to punish them for disturbing his rest once and for all. Dante wouldn't be surprised. He himself felt tired of constant explanations, asking, categorical refusals, getting his own way… He started to believe more strongly that he wasn't destined to be a teacher.

'I admire you', Zhalia remarked under her breath.

He turned around to her; it was easy to forget about her presence. Compared to his up-to-now Prague mission comrades, she appeared as the embodiment of taciturnity and composure. Even now, knowing that they were running out of time, she wasn't panicking; on the contrary, she seemed very relaxed, as if even the awareness of threat hanging above their heads couldn't have thrown her off balance. Perched on the edge of the table, she stared attentively at the laboratory equipment, which densely covered the top.

'What do you mean?', he asked, observing how she lightly touched the graduated cylinder; her long nails clinked scratching the glass.

'That you can stand them', she smirked, not raising her glare at him, as if she was fascinated with what she was doing. Dante automatically started to observe her slender index finger, circling slowly around the graduated cylinder's edge. There was something calming in the smoothness of her moves, contrasting with the tension pulsing within his body with every flow of his blood.

'I'm starting to get used to that', he only murmured, in the meantime noticing that Zhalia had very slim wrists, though they were usually covered by the sleeves of her blouse. 'I'm sorry I forced you to witness it', he added after a moment, surprising even himself. He didn't know why he stated that though it sounded a bit silly, it was also proper. If he hadn't say that, he would have felt somewhat unfair towards Zhalia. After all, he exposed her to Sophie's tantrums and unpleasant encounter with the Organization, he owed her just some apologies.

'Relax, it's nothing new for me', she assured him, suddenly taking her hand off the vessel and jumping onto the floor lightly. 'What do I have to do?', she asked, approaching him. 'I was supposed to be useful.'

Dante blinked, waking up from the stupor which took over him under the influence of the hypnotizing monotony of her previous movements. Under the woman's expectant glare he reminded himself why he was here. He nodded and picked up the explanation.

'You saw this, didn't you?', he touched the silhouette of the key, perfectly visible in the coat of dust. She agreed. 'What do you think, would you be able to make a duplicate?'

She peeked at the shape and tilted her head, wondering. When she leaned over to see it better, she brushed him with her arm; a shiver went through him, and it wasn't due to the mausoleum's cold. Zhalia's back blocked out his vision for a moment – shapely, with her shoulder blades joined together.

'It's possible', she responded after a while, straightening up again; she was quite tall as for a woman, she reached above his shoulder and he wasn't the shortest. 'But it'll take some time, and we don't have any in excess.'

'How long?', he asked strictly, wondering how quickly Sophie and Lok would find Cherit.

'At least an hour', she estimated, shaking her head. They both knew it was too long.

Dante scratched his beard.

'You're talking about the option when you would be using traditional solutions, right?', he investigated. She nodded. 'How about using Formtake?'

'How do you know I can use it?', she got surprised, furrowing her angled eyebrows.

'Let's just say I've got my sources', he responded evasively. 'Would you manage?'

'Forget it', she advised him. 'To use Formtake, I'd have to make an exact measurement, and I don't have any precise tools. Of course I could make a similar one, but it rather wouldn't work. Sometimes even thousandths of millimeter matter. One more or less and the lock won't open, especially the one guarding the treasure.'

'The holotome will deal with it for us', Dante drew out the mentioned device and lifted it above the key's silhouette. 'Scan this shape for me and create its three-dimensional model.'

The holotome brightened, sending long waves which moved left and right across the key's outline. Nothing happened for a moment, and then emerald beams directed from the device got formed into a spectral replica of the key, moving around slowly.

'Is it enough?', he asked, waiting for the verdict of one-man jury.

Zhalia looked the copy up and down.

'That'll do nicely', she responded with content, raising both her hands so that they almost embraced the pale green hologram; for a moment they resembled a paper lantern, lightened up by the celadon beams. 'Formtake!', she pronounced clearly in a sharp whisper, and then she caught her totally material creation with satisfaction before it fell onto the table with a clank. With a furtive smirk, she waved the key in front of his eyes.

'That's just the thing you wanted to get, mister Vale?', she asked playfully. He gave the smile back, it was hard to resist the sparks in her eyes, full of pride.

'I'm impressed', he admitted. 'It's pleasant to work with someone who knows the ropes…'

'I know even more', she corrected mysteriously, turning around rapidly. He wanted to say something, but he cut short, feeling her hand grasping the tail of his coat unerringly and drawing it aside without embarrassment.

His breast pocket got heavier; the key fell to the very bottom. Zhalia patted it lightly as if she was making sure that it was there; her hand, elongated like a cherry tree leave, with olive complexion, was barely discernable, somewhat fleeting, but it left a circle of warmth nevertheless.

'Just don't lose it', she warned Dante, keeping an eye on him; hazel and very feline in shape, with curled lashes.

They just stared at each other for some time. Zhalia's facial expression was inscrutable, but Dante had to admit it suited the entirety - enigmatical, coming from who-knows-where and still full of surprises. And every new one was getting more interesting…

He shook himself, feeling his phone vibrating. He took it out and quickly scrolled the message down, absorbing the information.

'They found Cherit', he announced, sending a short answer. 'And gave us some clues about Lore's townhouse. The Organization's heading there too. They have advantage – they're going by the car.'

'So what are we waiting for?', she asked, handing him the holotome. 'DeFoe rather won't stop at the red lights!'

Dante nodded and taking his possession from her, he rushed across the chamber. She followed him. The patter of their boots echoed in the tomb. The woman stayed behind for a while, but later she came abreast of him, adapting her pace to his long leaps. Arm in arm, they ran up the stairs and dashed into the chilly night, first through the cemetery, then the gate to get to the street. She didn't complain about the tempo even once, which he was grateful for – he got used to run in high gear. Besides, she easily adapted to different situations. She knew when she could loosen the screw and when to set her every sense on the mission. Now she didn't waste her breath for small talks, just followed him without a word, not messing the silence of the sleeping city. Dante stated again that he had made a right choice. And he started to believe that Guggenheim wasn't mistaken judging Zhalia; not a tiny bit.

**The same day, 22:32**

**The Road of Alchemists**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

Go-to-hell-you-damn-marathon-runner.

That's roughly how my thoughts look like when I try to catch my breath after a crazy effort of keeping up with Mister Road Runner. Of course I could have told him to slow down. But, damn it, I insisted on impressing him with my fitness and making myself believe that it's the best way to achieve my goal, way better than acting like a frail plant. Oh, just screw it. It's certainly a way, but to depart this life. Does he gobble nuclear fuel to scorch like that?!

But there are better methods to attract his attention than playing a born sportswoman. Even the trick with the key. I'm sure that the sight of a woman taking off his shit-colored duster was very suggestive for the primitive centers of his male brain. After all, a statistic guy thinks about sex round the clock. Even if he hadn't expected that his vision would come true – you know, the tomb isn't the most suitable place for some hanky-panky – the fact that such an idea had crossed his mind would do my credit. Stimulating his fantasies is just a first step to wrap him around my finger. And there's no better way to arouse his interest than subtle, yet meaningful gestures, instigating his imagination to invent obscene scenarios. For this evening, I still have some ideas worth carrying out…

He doesn't look at me, busy with unlocking the entrance to Lore's house, so I have an opportunity to watch him insolently. After all, I want to familiarize myself with him before we move to more intimate level of our acquaintance. I observe his wide back, judging him like an actor during the audition. I wonder if he's a long distance kind only during running. Maybe he's a typical sprinter in bed?

This or that, he's really messing some things up. What I'm preparing the key for if he's slacking off now?

'Does it fit?', I ask, seeing how he fights with the lock.

As a respond, the heavy, wrought-iron door cracks and Dante opens it wide before me.

'A precise job', he praises me, letting me go first and slipping inside right after.

When we enter, it's just silent and gloomy for a moment, especially when the thin stream of light getting through a slit between the two casements of the door disappears. Jodis Lore apparently had a thing for such places. It doesn't stink like the tomb, but the indescribable smell of a place uninhabited for ages fills the air. I sneeze when dust gets into my nostrils.

'Fancy a tissue?', Dante asks, locking the door far-sightedly and drawing the key out from the hole.

'Rather a surgeon's mask', I state, waving my hand in front of my face to disperse the specks. It doesn't work and even makes the situation worse; I feel as if I put my head into the full bag from the vacuum cleaner. 'Where do you think Lore hid the Golem?', I ask when he comes abreast with me.

'I don't have a clue, I can't even see a thing', he says and raises his hand. 'It's time to change it. Boltflare!'

A sphere of golden light jerks up and hangs in the air like a intricate candelabrum, sending raybeams into every dark corner and extracting all the hidden shapes. It's not difficult given the fact that we are in a square hall so small that it resembles some kind of a cupboard. I wonder where Lore's guests (if he had any) were leaving their shoes, cloaks and umbrellas when they visited him. There's no room even for a coat-stand! If I had made two steps forward, I would've hit the next door with my forehead.

'Just don't tell me they're closed too…', I throw in pessimistically.

'Do you know anyone who locks the room and then the house?', he responds with a question, going forward. 'That's like unnecessary duplicating certain procedures.'

'You won't tell me that an alchemist playing Prometheus and having so much to hide is a mere guy who buys bread for breakfast everyday', I retort when he reaches the handle. I don't know what he expects. At one level, it would be better for my plan if the door opened, but on another… if he makes the face 'I-told-you-so' again, I won't handle it and this time I'll stick the key not into his pocket, but down his throat, and I'll force him to swallow it.

Damn it… When Dante presses the handle, the door yields so easily as if its hinges weren't hundreds years old. Vale can't hold back a satisfied smile when he throws them open and says in passing:

'Evidently Lore had a soft spot for baked goods.'

And someone is going to have a meal full of iron… I almost come in when Dante lightly catches me by the elbow.

'Wait', he stops me and takes the lead. 'The Organization could be ahead of us and set a trap.'

'Lok, Sophie or Cherit would notice something and warn us', I deny, though I doubt it myself; from all of them, the gargoyle seems to have the most of brains, but how much of it could fit into such a small nut?

'It won't hurt if we check it', he responds, taking out a gilt amulet with a green jade. 'Take flight, Solwing!'

The falcon Titan materializes from nowhere and hangs above his Seeker, waiting for his orders. Dante points the another room to him with a move of his head; the bird flies in silently. We are agog for few long minutes until Dante announces:

'It's clear. We're entering.'

The interior of the second room doesn't resemble the standard image of a townhouse. It's almost a chamber or rather a hall with a very highly-domed vault supported by towering columns. It's simply huge, the whole flat would fit into it. Lore could have invited approximately a hundred people and it'd still be room enough to dance. Though I doubt he threw parties here. A solemn, austere atmosphere reigns here, as if there was a sanctuary formerly… or mystical rituals took place here. This impression is intensified by the center of the room, where lies… Yeah, what?

'Here comes the solution for our riddle', Dante states, coming forward and not stopping until he is right next to the huge, gray lump of stone, reaching up to his chest when he gets close enough to take a look at it.

I walk round it from the other side. What at first appeared as a shapeless mass, now turns out to be a sculpture. It has human feet, hands and features – just approximately ten times bigger and more grotesque, as if it was modeled by an incapable child. And any normal man would show himself with a scribble on his forehead, unless after a boozy event. The signs resemble those Sophie painted when she was opening the tomb.

'So that's the Golem?', I murmur with doubt. 'This Lore guy wasn't an artist…'

Dante nods in silence, furrowing his brow. _Hey, don't do it or I'll really believe you're an intellectual_ – the crease on his forehead looks really convincing.

'You're right', he speaks suddenly. 'That's too obvious. I know the darkest place is under the candlestick, but… just like that? In the center of the room?'

'It's not like a great sage', I agree.

'And what's more… listen', he puts his ear against the statue and knocks into it lightly. 'It makes a sound as if it was empty inside. If it was a Golem, it would fall into pieces after few stronger blows… And it hardly suits the powerful Titan…'

'So what, are we going to check the room?', I don't make a fuss over the discovery. 'If we whizz through it, maybe we'll avoid the encounter with the Organization.'

'Maybe', he murmurs doubtfully. 'But in my opinion we should have some kind of a plan in case of the confrontation before we get to work.'

'Any propositions?', I ask without beating about the bush.

'What do you think about following Odysseus's example? This one', he points at the clay colossus, 'reminded me of the Trojan horse. We could get inside and wait until DeFoe approaches it. He'll surely mistake it for the Golem, just like us. He'll try to bond with it, and then we…'

'…will pop out with a huge boom', I finish. 'It's alright, but how will we know that they're coming?'

'Solwing will warn us.' We lift our eyes at the Titan circling under the ceiling. Every minute his wings cover the light coming from the window in the roof, thanks to which we are surrounded by dimness, not a complete darkness. 'Then he'll hide somewhere under the roof and wait until we smash the sculpture up and attack all of the sudden…'

'The two of us and a small Titan is a bit too little', I throw in skeptically. 'DeFoe won't go easy on us, he'll summon his best pets. You won't tell me that one Solwing will beat up his whole retinue.'

_He can only shit onto their heads, if only the Titans have to defecate._ I barely hold back a giggle, but I remind myself that I can share that fate. I peek at the falcon warningly. It'd be better for him if he didn't choose me for his toilet, otherwise I'll grill him and eat like a KFC chicken.

'I've got some more friends up my sleeve', he smiled lightly, tossing another talisman. I anticipate him and catch the strap attached to the amulet, then I look at it carefully: it's oval, gray, with a shiny light blue gem and three white cones like Tasmanian devil's teeth. I saw such an amulet only in the Organization's database, never in concert. They're extremely rare and only a few can obtain them, but they're hard to mistake for anything else. I can't believe my eyes…

'Don't tell me that it's…', it comes from my mouth before I bit my lip.

'Yes, it's Caliban', Dante admits, hanging the amulet down his neck.

A real Caliban – _attack: 8, defense: 6, type: Meso-Titan Warrior, size: average, special ability: weapon change_… A find for every ambitious Seeker. And he's waving it around as if he found it in the chips. Given the fact that he denied being careless many times, I assume that such behavior stem from his inflated ego. Though any sign of excessive pride doesn't sound in his voice when he continues:

'Him and your Kilthane will be a great striking force, and…'

'Hey, hey, wait a sec', I raise my finger, interrupting him. 'How do you know all of this? I haven't summoned Kilthane in your presence. And I haven't used Formtake as well. However…', I put both hands onto my hips, piercing him with my suspicious glare. 'Can you enlighten me?'

'We've got a mutual acquaintance', he informs me. 'Guggenheim. After all, everyone in the Foundation knows him. No wonder that he told me about you first.'

Oh yeah, right. It all makes sense. That Swiss potato probably babbled to him about everything. I only hope that this dull nugget didn't spill the beans and tell him that once I also had been very interested in him.

**4****th**** April 2006, Tuesday, 10:15**

**Manhattan**

**New York City, the USA**

'Guggenheim?', I started, leaving my espresso, sipped in the American pub. It was a very sultry Spring morning, not long after I joined the Foundation, during the break in acquainting myself with the Huntik operation under the tutelage of its portly chief. 'Can I have a question?'

'Of course, go for it', the fair-haired plump encouraged me, noshing his sausages with elan. If I weighed so much, I would resign from stuffing myself with another portions of fat, but he apparently wasn't afraid of the high cholesterol level in his organism.

'What's up with those patters about Dante Vale?', I asked, acting confused, and underlined it, playing with my spoon. 'Today I heard someone mentioning that topic again and I didn't get what's the matter. Is it some kind of a Foundation joke? Like, about a local mascot?', I added stupidly, as befits an eighteen-years-old goose. After all, then I had to pretend that the whole story about Titans, powers and secret societies are a total novelty for me, which I just approached in the Foundation.

'A mascot!', the fatso laughed heartily. 'I'd like to see his face if he heard that!'

'So it's an authentic person, isn't it?', I investigated with the curiosity of a naïve teenager; to accentuate the effect, I often blinked and fluttered my lashes.

'Oh yes, by all means!', he nodded, carving another piece. 'Everyone in the Foundation knows Dante. Even if someone has only heard about him. In 2004, he was appointed the top Huntik operative and since then no one has deposed him. A great fellow, he's really worth meeting.'

'So why haven't I met him yet?', I wondered. 'Or maybe I did? We could even pass each other by on the corridor and I didn't recognize him, because I didn't suppose that…', I pretended to be a slightly overreacting girl who was afraid of compromising herself in front of the crowd's idol.

'No, it's hardly possible', he calmed me down. 'Dante… let's just say he took a leave. For an indefinite period.'

'There are leaves in the Foundation?', I picked up; as if the naïve teenager had thought only about holidays.

'When you'll establish your reputation equally to his, you'll decide it yourself', he winked at me.

'Why did he resign at the height of his career?', I got interested, staring at the content of my cup.

Guggenheim became confused a bit.

'That's not a public information', he said, putting his cutlery aside for a while. 'Forgive me, Zhalia, but I'd rather not pore over it', he addressed me apologetically. 'First – as the superior, I can't give away all the Foundation secrets; second – it's unseemly for me as a friend.'

'Oh, so you're friends', I nodded with understanding. _That's better. You'll be a better source of information._

'For a long time, despite age difference', he added with a slight hesitation, as if he didn't want to look like an old geezer in my eyes. 'With Dante, you don't feel it, he's very mature. And it's also hard to dislike him. I hope you'll see it yourself someday, but it's impossible for now.'

'Sure, I understand', I responded meekly, coming back to my coffee, though I wanted to smash the cup against the ground so badly. I had a mine of information in front of me but he made a vow of silence… But slowly. You can reach some facts even taking the roundabout way…

'All right', he swallowed the last piece and cleaned his mouth with a napkin, 'let's get back to work. I'll show you few Foundation codes now…'

**13****th**** June 2009, Saturday, 22:41**

**Jodis Lore's townhouse**

**The Road of Alchemists**

**Hradčany**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

'Zhalia?', Dante's voice shakes me off the pensiveness. 'I hope you're not holding against me that I asked Guggenheim about you?', he asks with concern. 'I just wanted to prepare some tactics, and it wouldn't work without any info. And you don't have anything to be ashamed of, only successes recorded', he adds in passing, but meaningfully.

Well, well, tell me about it, kitten. Besides, I also looked through your papers. From cover to cover. It took me some time, but I had plenty of it when I finally became a Huntik operative with full rights. With my cleverness, I didn't even need Guggenheim to obtain the essential data.

'Of course not', I answer charmingly. 'I should rather be proud that Dante Vale himself expended his attention on me…', I add only with a touch of irony and a lot of seductive blandishment. 'You're a living legend, after all. So enigmatical that some people even wonder if you exists. I was one of them too. When I joined the Foundation, you'd just vanished.'

'Oh, right…', his face gets morose or it's just Solwing shading the window again? 'I must've settled some matters.'

'For three years?', I throw in smoothly.

'It'd have lasted a lot longer if not a visit of one kid with a very important journal', he parries with emphasis, kneeling down next to the sculpture with his back exposed to me and knocking on it cautiously, just as if he thought that the talk was finished. Or as if he wanted me to think so.

'I get it. I didn't want to be intrusive', I say apologetically, though I don't feel any repentance. I just know that a cultured, well-mannered lady should say so.

'It's fine', he only responds. 'Let's just leave it, we've got something to do.'

'OK', I squat next to him. 'How are you going to open it and then close again without any trace?'

'I thought we would use Touchram and then you'll fix the sculpture with Formtake', he proposes. 'But only if it won't exhaust you too much…'

'Don't offend me', I respond in a voice which doesn't sound offended, though, and sweeten it with a smile.

'I'm sorry', he gives the smile back, getting that I'm only joking. 'So, on three?'

'Alright. Just don't overdo it.'

'That's not me who forced the hotel door', he makes a harmless remark. 'One…', he starts, not waiting for my reaction.

'Two…', I join in.

'Three!'

'TOUCHRAM!'

A stream of green energy strikes the statue's side and crumbles a considerable hole, big enough for us to worm through it with some effort. Now the sculpture looks like a patient on the operating table, prepared for the surgery, with its belly cut open and loose bowels flowing out from it in shape of clay crusts.

'See, I can do it gently too', I accentuate. 'But will we really fit into it?', I add doubtfully, looking into the darkness of our future hideout.

Dante doesn't answer; suddenly he tenses and peeks at Solwing, fluttering in the shade of the ceiling beams.

'They're already here', he warns me. 'Come on inside!'

He doesn't give me a second to react, just pushes me into the sculpture. At first I resist mechanically – stuffy air and fustiness almost strike from the empty colossus – but I have no chance to go back, with Dante behind me, urging me to hurry up. Willy-nilly, I let the darkness in the quasi-golem's stomach swallow me. Vale squeezes himself in right after me, I hear a short hiss when he hits his forehead against the clay vault. I have to back myself to the very wall to let him pull his legs inside; he's a big lad and when he finally hides his whole body, his arm pushes me against the clay surface.

'It's a bit cramped', I notice with my breath in.

'Sorry', he responds. 'I can't move aside.'

'You don't have a choice, I must cover the exit somehow', I say, turning aside to take less space. Then I lean on my arm and get up, bumping my forehead, and stick out towards the light, balancing over Dante's body. But… why not to make a small scene? I move my hand and pretending that I had slipped on his duster, I fell right onto his chest, hitting it with my belly.

'Sorry', I throw to him, though I triumph in my mind. 'There's no other way. Just hold on for a sec.'

He nods, not even moaning from pain. He has to have some hunky chest. Few additional exercises won't harm him, he can carry me for a little more. I move just a tiny bit forward, deliberately brushing my breast against his arm. He trembles a little, I can see in the dimness what look he throws at it. Yeah, yeah. You're not a hero or anything. You're just a man who gets wired by tits.

'Formtake!', I whisper sharply, with a tune of triumph, and the pieces of clay jump onto their places nicely, blocking out our only source of light.

I try to go back but this time it's so dark around that I constantly bump into another part of Dante's body, and now not on purpose. It'd be funny if I laid my hand on his crotch. Then I'd know for sure how much he likes me… Unluckily, before I can put this plan into practice, I feel that both his hands clench onto my waist and pull me back to my place.

'Don't move', he whispers so quietly that almost noiselessly, but my sense of hearing is set so sensitively that I'd hear a moth's flight.

Damn, it's easy to say, harder to do. Let him try to lie for a while with an oddly twisted pelvis, one leg bent and the other unnaturally straightened up, and one elbow stuffed under my butt, additionally. However… He also doesn't seem very comfortable when my hair tickle his neck and I almost press my nose against his collarbone. With some kind of surprise I notice that he smells nice. As if he didn't even sweat after all the running. He must have a long-lasting antiperspirant. And a good washing-powder, 'cause his sweater, though seems a bit worn-out, still stays soft to the touch.

Oh my, how those seconds drag… Though my sacrum hurts, a stream of sweat annoyingly slides down my temple and I'll develop claustrophobia soon, I don't dare to move or to breathe louder. Especially because even through the thick walls of the quasi-golem, the steps rumbling in the huge chamber and excited voices reach my ears. It pisses me off a bit that it's Dante who will give a signal to attack – I could propose my Gareon instead of his Solwing, then I would lead.

Colorful spots start to flicker in front of my eyes. That's probably due to staring into the darkness, my sight starts to play pranks. But not, the blue grows stronger. Dante grasps my elbow, giving me the signal. I tense, focus all my gathered energy and…

'Touchram!'

The clay colossus falls apart into small pieces, finally letting us breathe freely and stretch our legs. I jump aside from Dante, we both spring to our feet and raise our guard. The explosion's impact threw DeFoe and few Suits onto the walls; they sank onto the floor inertly. Only Grier somehow managed to keep standing, but it's hard to move such a muscleman, I didn't expect miracles. Besides, DeFoe also pulls himself quickly as for such a wimp.

'I don't know what grudge you have against me, DeFoe, but it's about to get a lot worse!' Oh great, what an idea, Dante itched to make a quote like from _Indiana Jones._

'Dante, don't give them time to recover!', I remind him, holding back an urge to add emphatically: 'You idiot!' at the end.

He takes out the strap with the amulet without hesitation and shouts:

'I invoke Caliban!'

A blue circle of energy appears from nowhere and in a blink of an eye, it forms a silhouette. It's hard for me to take my eyes off an Aztec warrior arising in front of me, with a mane of white hair, from head to toe covered in leather and metal armor incrusted with gold and bones, furthermore, with a crooked sword in his hands. Such a sight happens rarely. However, I know I have something to do, so I find my own amulets.

'Gareon! Kilthane!'

The small gecko-Titan and the dark knight, who would frighten just with his shield with a painted dragon, join Caliban.

'Attack!', Dante orders, marking Grier as his target while Kreutalk aims at me.

I dodge the stream of green acid and landing on the ground with both feet, I direct Raypulse to DeFoe, hoping that this time I won't miss and burn a hole onto his ass. This bastard shields himself with Honorguard. Meanwhile, the Suits charge at Kilthane. There's nothing better than fair play, two women at single guy… but my Titan can handle opponents like those, he's a defense specialist. Dante fights well too. I didn't expect him to stand up to Grier, but he keeps up with him and the boys even have some time to talk… At some point Dante even trips the fair-haired hulk up.

'How about some under-job training?', he remarks mockingly.

I smile to myself. I told you he's a cocky bastard.

'Zhalia!', he shouts warningly before he dashes into the fight with Grier again, only his cloak hums in the air.

I cover myself with Armorbrand automatically; just in time before the Suit's blow hits me. Kilthane backs down, ready to defend me. DeFoe pushes from the other side. Apparently, he insisted on assaulting me. Gareon climbs up my arm and sends beams of energy to him. The freak runs aside, I correct Gareon's strike with Augerfrost, DeFoe shelters himself again and sets Kreutalk against me. I duck the toxin nimbly, it leaves a wet, smoky spot on the floor. Directing spells and parrying the blows, I also spot out a noise in the corridor. O-oh, if the Organization calls the reinforcements, we're screwed.

'Poisonfang!'

The hell! Gareon jumps out of my shoulder and becomes invisible; DeFoe's charm would sweep him out, but he missed by a whisker. I parry the strike, but only by millimeters, then I have to strengthen the barrier under a rain of bullets, coming closer and closer to Dante. Few steps away Caliban tries to get rid of Breaker; he makes a dripping slash, but Kreutalk's acid hits him in the same time. Titan writhes in agony, and then the huge bear captures him and chokes in his grip. He announces his victory with a piercing roar. Caliban's done. I admit I expected something more…

'Things're getting sticky…', Dante remarks, grimacing a bit when Titan's power comes back to the amulet.

'Lok's hurt too!' Sophie? What's she doing here?! And also the ninny who causes more troubles than benefits again! They were supposed not to interfere and now it turns out that instead of watching out for ourselves, we will have to look after the snotnoses getting underfoot. And furthermore, one of them brought few new Suits with her…

'We've got to do something!', the girl adds. Such a shame she didn't think about it before she left Lok alone and gave the advantage to the Organization, dragging those guys from the hall.

'Was this part of your plan, Dante?!', I vent my bad mood on Vale, as if it was all because of him. It is, partially. What was the whole Caliban performance for if they finished him off in the first instance?

'Now, press the advantage!', DeFoe orders to his men.

And the playing starts.

The spells fly in the air as thickly as the dust falling down from everywhere. We bustle about feverishly, dodging the blows and at the same time trying to tip the balance in our favor with few efficient charms. We've got slim chances, but well, it's worth trying. I won't give up so easily. The worse it becomes for us, the more fiercely I lash around, because I get really furious. Why does this idiot DeFoe fight seriously?! I know that either way I'll be on the winning side, but it's not only about getting the Golem! My mission was supposed to last way longer than this! Why does he want to screw it up at any cost?!

The Organization's forces push us harder and harder. The efforts of Kilthane and Sabriel (which was brought here by Sophie) go to waste. This twit at least summoned a Titan, and Dante seems to slacken completely! He doesn't even aim at the Suits, just defends himself, maneuvering near the wall opposite to the door. Our Titans double the work now, blocking all the Raypulses and Augerfrosts.

I give out a painful moan when Breaker finishes Kilthane off. Sabriel stands in front of us and adopts the posture of a fencer. It's not the time for such poses…

'Looks like my Sabriel is our last heavy hitter', Sophie notices. As if it was something to be happy about.

'She seems a little light to me', I throw her off balance dryly.

DeFoe beams. I'm not surprised, if I saw only one Titan on my way, I'd also leap with joy.

'Victory is in my…', he starts and then he falls flat at his face, kicked into the cheek with a trainer.

'Lok!', Sophie shouts, raising her head. I also look up and my jaw drops. The kid summoned Kipperin?! But even Dante said it wouldn't go as smoothly as with Freelancer! Meanwhile young Lambert floats in the air onto the wings of the moth-like Titan, which entwines him with its tentacles like a living paraglide.

'You're gonna have to be a lot quicker than that!', he mocks the Suits, diving to them. He draws all their attention. 'Too slow!', he taunts them when DeFoe's men send at him a bunch of inaccurate spells, forgetting about us.

Well, almost.

On Grier's instruction, Breaker prepares to attack, but Dante, praising Lok nonchalantly, calls the forgotten Solwing back from near the ceiling. The large bear can't underestimate the falcon's sharp claws, reaching to his eyes. If the Titan is busy, I'll take care of his master.

'Gareon!', I call my favorite pet, who at my order becomes visible again and aims at Grier, striking him with energy from behind. The hulk writhes in pain and exposes his weak spots, what I make a good use of immediately. Seeing that I took the hardest enemy for myself, Lok handles the Suits, tripping them up. Meanwhile Dante, using the other's inattention, runs towards the direction which has attracted him for a while – to the coarse jug standing among the crushed tiles; for me, it resembles an urn the most. What interesting did he find here? Though I'm fighting with Grier from the distance, I keep an eye on Vale. Is it possible that he… Yes! I see a transparent veil of purple light surrounding his hand.

Finally he earned my slight respect! Comforted, I clean the floor with Grier's back, pushing him away with Touchram across the whole length of the room. Breaker, enraged by his owner's failure, throws Solwing aside with one flap of his paw and runs heavily to Sophie… who since few moments has just been standing stock-still. What, the savior appeared, so she can just be and look nicely?!

'Boltflare!', I jump in front of that moron and dazzle the bear with a sphere of light. The Titan hoarses with pain and lashes around, but can't see us.

'Breaker, they're in front of you!', Grier has already swallowed the loss to a woman and now seeks revenge at any cost.

And he'd probably succeed if not Dante's spectacular, almost movie-like entry; he suddenly stands between us and raises high a gray amulet, seeming to be made of stone.

'Do your worst, Metagolem!', he shouts so loud that it rings under the vault.

The energy released from the amulet is so immense that I involuntarily hold my breath. The clay remains of the quasi-Golem shake on the ground when something crushes it from below. A moment after an incredible weight falls onto it, just as if someone threw a tone of stones onto the flooring. An enormous silhouette shades us, crushing Breaker with one big blow of its rocky fists.

'Dante, that thing's huge!', Lok speaks up, floating above the colossus. The gold-crowned head of the giant almost touches the ceiling, the cloak sweeps the floor, and the whole posture resembles a bodybuilder from the Titan world – it's even got a six-pack on its belly, and the chest is covered by gold-encrusted breastplate, fitting the metal covering of the abdomen which would be good enough for a gladiator.

'Everyone, regroup!', Dante orders, lifting the Titan's shiny amulet. We stay in the formation obediently, me with Gareon on my shoulder, Sophie next to me and Sabriel on the other side, Metagolem behind us; Lok lands by Dante's side, Solwing on his usual spot on his shoulder.

'On my mark, concentrate your attacks on DeFoe!', Vale commands. He seems to feel good as a leader. Despite this that he didn't distinguish himself, at least he knows how to make a suitable pose. And I have to admit that it kinda fits him.

And furthermore, this inflated authority works. Maybe because Dante used kinda… heavy argument in the guise of Metagolem.

'Retreat', DeFoe pants, not even wasting his effort to adjust his tilted, twisted glasses. 'Everyone, retreat!'

'But sir…', Grier starts, still not throwing the fight on the scrap heap.

'Don't question me, they have Metagolem', the long-haired freak hisses and I sense his fear with satisfaction. 'And the advantage!'

'Yes, sir!', Grier is obedient to the orders. 'Everyone, hold back!'

With wide grins on their faces 'my' team observes how DeFoe's minions clear of there. When the last Suit disappears behind the door, Lok lets out an outburst of joy – a fist thrown triumphally into the air. The Seeker's emotions take over Kipperin and for a while the Titan lifts Lok few centimeters above the ground.

'Oh yeah!', Lok shouts so enthusiastically that it echoes in the room. 'The first mission finished successfully!', he adds, landing on the floor again and calling Kipperin back to the amulet.

'Hey, don't claim the whole credit to yourself!', I dash his zeal. 'If Dante hadn't found Metagolem, DeFoe wouldn't have run away hopping.'

'Lok also dealt fine with him', Dante parries gently. 'Good job, you chose the perfect moment, without it we would have been doomed and that way you bought me some time to bond with Metagolem', he praises the boy; too much, in my opinion. 'I'm curious about only one thing: how did you pull yourself together? Sophie said the Suits got you.'

'I used Everfight!', Lok begins. 'I learned it observing you, Dante!'

Ah, hectolitres of icing on the every sentence spoken until now. But Dante is impressed, his face shows it.

'And how's Cherit?', Sophie interrupts. 'Is something wrong with him?'

'He stayed outside, I didn't want to drag him into it', the blonde responds. 'Now he'll do just fine at the lookout.'

'Hey, hey, are we going to talk like that till midnight?', I break the lovely chat full of oh-and-ah. 'They can bring reinforcements, we're in Prague, wake up!'

'Right', Lok realizes his mistake and scratches his mop with embarrassment. 'So, you two show us the way. You managed to find something here, didn't you?'

'Actually, we kinda… didn't have time', Dante states, summoning Solwing back and hiding his amulets. 'We made ourselves busy with something else.'

Sophie at those words furrows her brow and throws me a suspicious, hostile stare. It's hard for me to hold back a smile. Ah, Dante. I couldn't say it so ambiguously. Thanks for your help.

**The same day, 23:46**

**On the way to the Ruzyně airport**

**Prague, The Czech Republic**

'Are you sure you can handle it alone, Dante?', Lok asks for a hundredth time.

'I am', he responds tirelessly, carrying the box full of Jodis Lore's notes with ease. 'You're being treated leniently, so just rest for now. You never know when the exhaustion after Kipperin's first summoning will strike.'

'You also summoned Metagolem for the first time, Dante', Sophie remarks. 'You shouldn't overtax yourself. We can split it between me and Zhalia.'

'Oh no, I'm not going to burden the ladies', he smiles. 'You did your job, Sophie. And Zhalia must be tired after the whole day of me abusing her.'

He does it on purpose or it's just my dirty mind? As if he tried to say such suggestive remarks at any cost… I peek at him, but he doesn't ever throw me a lustful, lecherous glare or anything like that. As if he himself didn't notice that he could have been understood in two ways. Such a pity. I just thought that he really drools over me. It'd make many things easier.

'You didn't, the time spent with you is intensive, but not wasted', I respond, trying not to watch Sophie's reaction, though I'm dying to make fun of her rage. 'Besides, I'll find you if I need help the next time.'

'I'm serious, Zhalia', he adds in a voice that really sounds as if he meant it, I even turn around to look at him. 'You run the risk of this mission with us, though you didn't have to', he continues solemnly. 'I owe you a reward. We all do.'

'Give it a break, I did it incidentally', I resist them just for show. 'If you were in my place, you'd do the same.' Like all those 'good' suckers.

'Obviously, that's why you can always count on us', Dante nods, 'but for now…'

'Watch it or I'll make a good use of this right faster than you think', I banter with him. 'When I just return from Venice…'

'From Venice?', Sophie breaks in sharply. 'And what will you do in Venice?'

'I told you I was in Prague on a mission. It was appointed to me by the Venice base of operation', I lie blatantly. 'I have to report now, and then I'll probably give myself some time to chill out…'

'We're also heading to Venice!', Lok interrupts me joyfully. 'Dante lives there and me and Sophie are studying! Does it mean we're going together?'

'It seems so', Dante nods and a smile wanders in both corners of his mouth. 'You won't get free of us that easily.'

'Unfortunately', Sophie hisses bitingly.

Rather: luckily.


	5. Chapter 5: Gargoyles And Other Eyesores

****Hi there!

Oh my, this chapter took me so long. I tried to write it almost four times and every time I wasn't satissfied with the way it turned out. I'm still not completely content with it... I tried to acknowledge your advices, though.

Like usually, here's a response to your comments:

- Kimberly: You were the first to comment and the first to make me smile and cry from joy (yeah, I know I'm a bit over-emotional). You wrote many words which gave me hope that my writing is really worth something. As you wrote you'd love having longer chapter, this chapter really is two pages longer!  
- Jess: Hahaha, I also liked writing that line ^^ I really wonder if Solwing could pee onto their heads. I know he's a Titan, but maybe... a special power or something... ;P Knowing that someone laughs during reading 'In Pieces' is a great thing to know! I tried to keep the jokes level ;)  
- StarTime101: Hi! Glad that you posted a comment! :) I think your review was really nice. Though I didn't know that you also wrote a Zhalia fic, I'm happy to know we have something in common! I hope you'll stay here a little longer :)

- CindyKayla: I didn't want to bother you with my previous intro. I understand you have a lot of things to do instead of just reading and writing reviews! I'm sorry if I was being intrusive or persistent. As you see, now I was able to fit the whole episode in 18 pages, as you advised! It's quite an improvement - previously one ep. took me 3 chapters, 16 pages each.

I guess I didn't miss anyone... If I did, please, lecture me like hell and I'll fix my mistake ;)

ENJOY the next chapter!

* * *

**15th July 2009, Monday, 11:13**

**Dante's house**

**Cannareggio**

**Venice, Italy**

Who started the whole 'I hate Mondays!' thing?

Anyway, it had to be a total loser. You have to work for your good mood, and I just succeeded in few matters yesterday.

First: I paid court to Vale and his team. Even the Casterwill girl swallowed her pride and came to thank me for saving her from Breaker. Obviously, I accepted it with appropriate dignity. You don't even have a clue how pleasant it is to patronize the people more well-off that yourself!

Second: as the result of this (or rather to get rid of me finally) my account was subsidized with a considerable, round sum; when I think about it, I get overcome with a perverse satisfaction. I'm plotting behind their backs and they even pay me for that… What a brilliant treaty.

Third: just during the first day of the acquaintance I acquainted myself with the habitat of my prey. This Vale guy resides pretty nicely… A three-floor house in the elegant Venice district, the rooms furnished as if they were from the furniture store's catalogue; modern simplicity and chic struck from every corner. Such a housing could be the only thing that I would consider worth toiling over to be the Foundation number-one prodigy!

Unfortunately, I didn't manage to go through this whole fortress from basement to the attic, 'cause someone was constantly keeping an eye on me. It was not likely that they would leave me alone even on my way to the loo. I had to stay calm and natural, as if my hands weren't itching to rummage through every single drawer. Oh well, let's just make it in order. At first I seized his living room. Soon, I hope, I will conquer his bedroom. And then (finally!) the hiding places where he hoards Huntik secret data.

It seems even easier given that as the crowning achievement of my visit, I got the indefinite invitation to Vale's 'humble' place. I'm going to make use of it now. I don't care if he gave it only because it was proper to say so or if he really wanted to have me as his guest again. I won't waste such a chance.

I run up the stairs lightly and make a quick knock to the door. No reaction. So I shrug and come in without any scruples. After all, he told me himself to feel at home.

A talk comes from the living room. Of course, the kids are already bothering him. I almost feel pity for this dude. But he deserves it. Now, suffer if you can't be assertive.

I listen out if anyone would come to the door, but they're lost in their conversation. No one even heard me knocking and opening the door. Maybe I should make use of it? If I manage to go past the living room entrance unnoticed, the rest of the house will stand open for me… I skulk through the hall on tiptoes, holding my breath. I'm almost going to pass the most dangerous spot, when…

'Hey, look, it's picking up Zhalia!'

Damn it. The blonde must always screw everything up! Now I have no choice. I straighten up and walk into the room in a normal, graceful pace, taking my usual spot next to the entrance.

'Boys and their toys', I comment acrimoniously, observing the house's mock on the holotome, with our silhouettes concentrated in one place. No wonder they detected me. Hm, such a map could come in handy… Maybe I could anticipate in which of the rooms the Huntik knowledge treasury possibly lies.

'It may look cool but it's no toy', Sophie scolds me; she'd do better if she moved aside, I try to get a peek on the scheme and memorize a little. 'With the holotome, Seekers can scan any Titan!'

'May I?', Lok gets enthusiastic. It's obvious he's a kid of modern technology. Without the computer, he can't even lace up his shoes.

'Sure. You may learn something', Vale responds. He is so convincing when he pretends that he's fascinated with teaching about Titans, the stats of which every average Seeker knows by heart! Which only shows that Lok isn't even a middlebrow, 'cause he gladly scans his amulets and takes in every single word said by the mechanical voice.

'The graphics are lame', I throw in with a bored timbre, observing Freelancer's animated model.

As a respond to my remark, the holotome says:

'_Upgrade required_.'

Dante makes a surprised murmur in reply. You can boast in front of the whipsters, but you won't fool me with your worn-out equipment. With ANY equipment. Even this one from your pants.

Some people are easy to impress, though.

'I could think of a million applications for this…', Lok says in awe, looking at Dante. 'Thanks.'

'_Hope I'm not interrupting!_'

A new voice in our choir attracts everyone's attention. Like the rest, I raise my stare to the huge screen hanging on the wall, which shows a wide face above the thin tie and the white shirt's edge. It could be assumed that we watch news broadcast, but it'd be a mistake.

'Guggenheim', Dante smiles to his friend's image.

'_Dante? And is that Zhalia?', _the portly Swiss recognizes me. '_I haven't seen you since our last mission! You look well', _he compliments me.

You bet. I nod, holding back a comment that he could lose some weight, otherwise even the largest TV won't be able to show his podgy mug soon.

'We've got a couple of new faces here', Dante puts his hands onto his charges' shoulders. 'Let me introduce Lok Lambert and Sophie Casterwill. This is Guggenheim of the Huntik Foundation', he fills up the introduction.

'_Pleasure to meet your acquaintances'_, Guggenheim responds politely. Ah, those waterfalls of sweetness. '_Now, Dante, I've got a favour to ask of you._'

'I'm investigating a case or two, but if you've got an interesting mission, I might be able to fit it in', Dante says with a voice of a perpetually busy celebrity who has a five o'clock tea with Queen Elizabeth, a golf match with Tiger Woods at six and at the midnight, he carries out the Emmy Awards. And any of those events can't be held without him.

'_There's been a curious rush of whirlpools in the waters of the river Seine'_, Guggenheim informs seriously. '_I'll send you the details in the file._'

'Whirlpools?', Dante repeats, furrowing his brow. I almost see his gyrus flowing. 'Do they happen to be near Rouen?'

'Of course, the legend of the Gargoyle!', Sophie assumes. This sentence only lacks 'Eureka!'.

'_You're a Casterwill indeed'_, Guggenheim states with acknowledgement. '_Folklore attributes these stone creatures with the powers of the water. This myth inspired the use of gargoyle statues on the fountains.'_

Just a small educational part.

'And the legend comes from Rouen in France!', Sophie adds. I'm starting to have a déjà vu.

'We know that this myth is really about the Titan, Gar-Ghoul', Dante joins them, interrupting this tautology. 'Its awakening powers are churning up the river. Has anyone been hurt?', he stares at his superior with concern. That's how I imagine Count Roland, worried about 'his sweet France' and ready to come to its aid at all hours of the day and night. And then dying in a river of blood and with a stream of florid sentences on his mouth.

'_Two were nearly killed'_, Guggenheim announces. Dante calms down a bit. 'Nearly' makes a big difference.

'How can I help?', he asks in a more collected voice.

'_We stand in the door of the new age of Seekers'_, Guggenheim notices. OK, but what does it have to do with it? '_More discover their power each day._'

'And though the Gargoyle is lying dormant since ancient time, you believe this new age is bringing it back to life?', Dante apparently has more experience in understanding his pal's blabbering, 'cause thanks to him it starts to make more sense.

'_Exactly_', the Huntik chief nods, then gets to the point. '_Here's the plan: you'll go to Rouen and meet with the Foundation operative. His name is Peter, he brought this abnormality to our attention, and he'll serve as your guide. You must attempt to recover the Gargoyle before it falls into the hand of the Organization. You should be receiving the details on your holotome now._' That's right, the mission data appear on the holotome at the same moment. '_Mission: The Legend of the Gargoyle._'

'I'll be on the next flight to France', Dante promises, hiding the materialized document in his breast pocket.

'_Good luck, my friend'_, Guggenheim wishes and disconnects. Nice buddy, by the way. He commissions a dangerous task and doesn't even say bye right.

Tough luck, but it's not me who chooses such acquaintances. Besides, those whom I have to befriend also aren't my type, but I have to grin and bear it. I must get into the company somehow. After all, France is a country mostly associated with romantic walks, air heavy from flirts and sexual candour. Such an ideal place for a trip for two.

'You get all the good missions, Dante', I remark. 'How about sharing the wealth? I happen to know my way around Rouen', I add suggestively.

He eyes me attentively. I can't really crack his mind open now. Maybe he'd prefer to hang around the city without any human tails? Just in case if a French coquette accosted him? A perfect snack for a break between the important task.

'You want in? Fine', he accepts.

Oh, I didn't expect that it'd go so quickly. Apparently, he knows French experiments inside out (literally) and doesn't seek opportunities for new adventures. Besides, I'm not worse that those women. I don't have any references, but I can prove it in concert.

'Hello, excuse me? But what about us?', Sophie cuts in.

'What', you ask? To the kindergarten, it's a perfect place for your arguments about blocks and dolls.

'Yeah, Sophie's right. What better we'll learn how it's done?', Lok supports her, then he adds beggingly: 'Come on, Dante…'

_Refuse, _I try to use telepathy, piercing Dante's back with my stare. _Don't be a fag. Pretty, pretty please… I'll take care of your Eiffel Tower in exchange…_

'Alright, why not', Dante gives up under the kids' imploring gazes. 'But you'll have to pull your own weight', he warns them trying to be strict.

Well, persuasion without any charms is a much more subtle art and demands at least an eye contact. Or Dante's just a hopeless case of submission…

'Now everyone, get packed', Vale lifts himself up heavily as if his own compliance weighed him down.

The kids beam and I itch to bite their throats open, starting with the red monkey and leaving the best morsel for the end. Of course I'm talking about Cherit, who asks shyly:

'Can we get a more comfy bag for me this time?'

And a machine gun for me, 'cause otherwise I won't handle another mission with this bunch of dimwits.

**The same day, 14:12**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Rouen, France**

'Now this is what I call summer vacation! A trip to France!', Lok beamed, taking in the interior's splendor with his eyes wide open, just like the charming city views before. As it turned out, he has never been to France either, but, like most people, he regarded it as a place worth visiting. Now he had a perfect chance to do it. Or rather, he thought so.

'This isn't a vacation, Lok', Sophie reminded him. 'We're on the serious mission!'

'Sophie's right', Dante agreed, going into the hall. He was glad that he wasn't the one to lecture Lok; he felt bad as a critic.

'Hey, I passed my finals!', Lok bridled, then he added more quietly: 'Basically…'

His embarrassing confession was left without response, because suddenly an elegant hotel worker came from behind the reception desk and asked with distinct French traces:

'Are you Mister Dante Vale?'

'I am', the man answered truthfully.

'This is for you', the receptionist handed him a folded piece of paper and wandered off without another word.

Dante peeked at him when he was disappearing in the side corridor. He didn't call back if he had seen this man before. Had the Organization already sent their stooge? He unfolded the sheet and attentively looked at the signs drew on it. No, rather not. Everything was alright.

'This is a very basic Foundation code', he recognized.

'Can I see?', Lok asked with interest; riddles and ciphers were really his thing.

'It's from the guide', Dante informed, giving him the message. 'He's being held by the police.'

'I got it!', Lok greedily sank his eyes into the symbols. 'He's at the six street of the Old City…'

'I don't believe it', Sophie murmured in shock, looking at her peer with unusual acknowledgement. 'You deciphered the code that fast? Impossible!', she stated.

'Well, I've already translated the first line', Dante remarked, surprised that the clever girl hadn't figured it out on her own. Perhaps Lok really impressed her. The man caught a quiet laugh with his ear – it was Zhalia who voiced her amusement.

'And the rest of the message was coded the same way', Lok filled up the explanation. 'So, how will we get our guide outta the jail?', he opened his arms helplessly, looking at each companion one by one.

Dante furrowed his brow a bit. He didn't expect that things would turn out that way. He had to quickly invent an effective plan, and it wasn't easy when the team was partly consisted of newbies. What's more, everyone counted that he'd hit on a brilliant idea and, as usual, get them out of trouble. Maybe it was for the best, he'd rather not depend on their inventiveness too much.

He twitched, feeling a brush on his shoulder, even more delicate than Solwing's feathers. He looked down and saw Zhalia's hand against the background of his light-brown duster.

'Dante, I think this would be easier if I handle this alone', she proposed, taking her hand away.

Just as if she had read his mind.

'Hold on, we can't…', Sophie started.

'If you insist…', he gave her a thank-you stare, grateful that he wouldn't have to worry about this.

She smiled and turned around, probably assuming that it had settled the matter.

'Call if there's trouble', he threw in to her.

'Not likely', she responded lightly, wandering off.

Dante didn't have any doubts that she really wouldn't need to fatigue him. It was just easy to feel. That's why he didn't bother his head with it anymore. He turned around and started to go up the stairs, leading the kids like a mother hen her chickens. He didn't really like this comparison, but sadly, it looked just like that.

'Dante, how much do we really know about her?', Sophie brought up the question which probably had bothered her for a while.

'Her background with the Foundation checks out, if that's what you're wondering', Dante responded calmly.

'She doesn't do the friendly thing… but I think she's OK.', Lok voiced his opinion.

'I still don't trust', the girl insisted on her judgement.

Dante didn't like that remark. It started to wind him up that the youngsters questioned his decisions. Sophie didn't have any reasons, but she accused Zhalia. He sensed the effects of ordinary envy in it.

'Sophie, do you know something we don't?', he threw in chillily. 'Trust has to be earned. We're going to give her a chance to do just that', he decided in a peremptory voice.

The girl got silent, offended or embarrassed, he didn't really want to check. Just like he wasn't going to wonder what Zhalia's motives were. He believed in his words, so he didn't try to judge her before the woman wouldn't give him any reasons to do so. He calmed down; additionally, it helped him that he was still feeling a pleasant shiver in his shoulder where her hand had been lying a moment ago. Could a person so gentle in every small gesture really have dishonest intentions?

**The same day, 15:21**

**The Seine river bank **

**Rouen, France**

'Nice work, Zhalia', I hear first when I finally, after a chain of vicissitudes, approach the rest of the team. 'You did it!'

'Of course', I respond laconically because I don't really want to dwell on the topic what I went through to achieve this.

I remember that I complained about my current comrades' scatterbrained attitudes like, a dozen times. I won't take it back, I still think that they're terrible amateurs. But compared with this boy I brought here, they're just masters of spectacular actions! The four-eyes had been causing troubles right from the moment I tricked the policemen and with a help of little persuasion (what means: a spell nicely called Simplemind), I convinced them to set the whippersnapper free. Unfortunately, they quickly reminded themselves that they were supposed to keep him locked no matter what. And that's all my fancy costume of a sophisticated lawyer, indignant at the treatment of her client, was for! Now I know it was a huge mistake, because when it came to running away from the officers, jogging in the skirt was an ordeal! In addition, I had to watch out if our guide (My foot, him, a guide!) hadn't tripped over his own legs and dragged us right into the cops' embrace. I managed to bamboozle them somehow, weaving our way in the Old Town's alleys, but it didn't do without Gareon's help; the small fellow took care of the persecutors, giving us enough time to run away.

Eventually, it's Peter who gets the Greatest Klutz Known Award. Lok dropped onto the second place.

'I'm afraid that we're running out of time', Dante approaches us and addresses the lad, uncertain if he should go forward. 'We're counting on you to tell us what happened.'

The boy peeks cautiously at first at Dante, then at me. What're ya staring at? Did you think I'd stay in that uncomfortable disguise? Such a mistake. I prefer my usual image.

'I-I just need a few minutes', he stutters, swallowing hard.

Dante's stare follows the boy who sits on the nearby rock; then he turns to me and makes a questioning murmur. I shrug. Who am I, a child psychologist?

'Maybe I should handle this', Sophie proposes and then, not waiting for the answer, approaches Peter and opens the talk. They chatter so sweetly that I have a toothache due to the sugar. Great. I don't have to pretend that I'm interested in his youthful problems.

'See?', Dante speaks up suddenly. I look at him, surprised. What am I supposed to see? That Sophie will get a next admirer soon if she carries out the coaxing part like that?

'What?', I say sharply.

'A little compassion can go a long way', Dante finishes.

Oh damn, my jaws drops. So what, you're playing Confucius?! And YOU are the one who's preaching at me… I also have few advices for you. For example, stop dressing like a bum. Shave once a week. Cut this bush on your head. Don't be a babysitter for two absent-minded fifteen-years-old. And next time, before you start to lecture me as if I was another one of your charges, think again four times and eventually, shut your gob.

'I'm sorry', I snarl ironically, 'but I don't have such a protective instinct like you.'

Lok pulls away from us tactfully, taking Cherit with him too. Fine, so he has a sense of danger, after all.

'I don't expect you to dance attendance on him', Dante shakes his head, 'just try to put yourself in his position and show him some understanding.'

I snort haughtily.

'Listen, I didn't join you as a therapist for poor patients', I respond; to underline this statement, I reach my open hand out. 'I'm here to carry out the mission. And this guy delays everything. Do you want the Organization to snatch Gar-Ghoul from under your nose?', I ask truculently. 'So keep leaning over every teenage tantrum, good Samaritan.'

I'm not charming, nice and friendly. So what? I won't agree with him in everything just to make him regard me as an ideal, submissive match to bang. If I want him to do so, he won't have anything to say. And if he pisses me off, I'll forget about all the fuss and just turn his brain inside out. He'd better think twice if he doesn't want to have a little joy from this life before I end it.

He doesn't look at me – and it doesn't bode well. I've got a feeling that I've just lost few points. And I don't like it at all. The fate on Mondays really is sealed…

'Guys, I think we're running out of time!', Sophie notices brilliantly, detaching herself from talk with Peter.

'You're so right, little lady!'

Yeah, finally someone I can beat into a pulp without scruples and vent my anger on! My old pals Suits, the best cannon fodder on Earth!

The whole team tightens the battle formation, backing up. I itch to trip Dante up. I'd ruin his pristine image of the adamant genius if he suddenly turned turtle in front of laughing Organization agents. Ah, luckily I can at least imagine that. Life gets better at once.

'Don't use your Titans!', Vale warns us. 'Too many people are nearby. Sophie, protect our guide!'

Glad to know that the four-eyes can't use any spell… Lok slowly becomes a king of newbies in my eyes. In comparison to Peter, everyone goes better.

'We're here to take you guys to DeFoe', the confident blonde, a self-appointed leader of the six-men squad, announces. 'If you come quietly, I promise no one will get hurt.'

'But getting hurt is what you do best…', Dante responds shrewdly, smirking jeeringly.

The blonde loses his tongue, this remark throws him off the track. I admit, though Vale is a big-headed asshole, sometimes it's good that he snaps his mouth. Especially when he throws a line I'd use myself.

'Have it your way', the Suit drawls, trembling from repressed fury, then he orders his comrades: 'Get them!'

Perhaps I have a clairvoyance talent, because I wasn't surprised when at the same time two of them shot Augerfrost at us. Maybe 'cause they usually start it like that? Naturally, they chose the most dangerous-looking representatives for their targets. I'm quite flattered that I'm one of them, though being tarred with the same brush as Vale… An average pleasure. Alright, let's leave personal grudges aside. I'm not here to have fun all the time.

'Raypulse!', Dante fires the spell at the Suit. Apparently the fact that someone might see unusual flashes doesn't bother him as much as summoning Titans. I also doubt that no one would find suspicious that a grown-up guy suddenly makes a grasshopper-like jump and strikes two other men down. Hyperstide at the Seeker's service.

Have it your way, at least I'll play a little. I quickly locate the puffed-up blonde, who starts to run at mere sight of me. No use – I struck him down anyway, kicking his back with my both legs. The dude bumps into his two colleagues and all of them fall onto the grass like skittles. Landing after such a blow demands some agility, but I have plenty of it. There's enough to get up after a complicated sequence of movements, catch the fair-haired ass and send him flying with Raypulse directed right to his chest. Wuuush, and he gets an outer-space flight for free.

'Peter!', frightened Sophie screams. 'Are you OK?'

I turn around and my arms drop off. Has this idiot just thrown a Suit right onto our guide, crushing him? I think she was supposed to protect him, not send him to the hospital in the express! I know that he's an useless dolt, but he supposedly will come in handy!

'My ankle!', the four-eyes groans, crawling out from under the persecutor with a little help from the girl.

Bravo. I swear that next time the redhead stays at home. In a straitjacket.

'Dante, Peter's hurt!', Sophie shouts, supporting the guide. Somehow she didn't confess that she's the culprit of this whole mess.

I look around. If such an atmosphere loosening occurred, I guess this means that we've already beaten all the Suits? Oh right, the last one lies under the tree and Dante leads Lok from there. Did he save him or Lambert managed to do so on his own? Seeing his content, disbelieving face, I assume that it's the second option. However, it doesn't mean it's all said and done. The reinforcements can always appear. Besides, DeFoe himself will realize soon that his order – five Seekers and a small Titan, take-away version – is a bit late.

'We need to keep moving', I insist. Let's just wave aside the aching ankle. Unless it's not my ankle, I won't get soppy about it.

Sophie throws me a disgusted glare. I make an ugly face to her. I remind you that it's not me who got rid of the guide… The girl pouts her lips and turns to the four-eyes.

'Peter, I want you to tell Dante what you told me', she asks him.

'The special investigator forced me to tell him about the cave of the Gargoyle', the boy confesses. 'His name was… DeFoe', he finishes more quietly.

'So we're too late', Dante judges gloomily.

'I wouldn't be too sure 'cause I only gave him the general idea', Peter calms him down, cleaning his glasses. 'Chances are - we can be then there.'

'What's the fastest way to get there?', Dante asks, holding on to this hope.

'Hm… I've got an idea', Peter answers, smiling for the first time since I met him… and thus, it makes this smile a bit disturbing.

**The same day, 15:49**

**The Seine river**

**Rouen, France**

Luckily, it turned out there's nothing to fear. If only one can swim, because actually we're dashing through the Seine waters on the motorboat. By no means not for relaxing or entertaining purposes, though Cherit seems to have fun, sitting astern.

'Now you've seen it with your own eyes… the evil that we're working against', Sophie begins, addressing Peter.

Ah, so, five minutes of motivational talk for everyone begin.

'Believe me, I know exactly how you feel!', Lok tries to outshout the engine hum. 'A few weeks ago I was a regular kid… and now look at me!'

Sophie laughs, peeking at her peer.

'A regular kid in the company of legends', she mocks him.

'You're a legend?', Lok pays her off. 'In your own mind! Anyway, how did you get to the Huntik Foundation, Peter?'

'Studying archeology', the young man explains, taking the glasses off again. You know, you won't clean them with your fingers… 'When the Foundation approached me, I realized their ideals were exactly what I was looking for. To protect history and not exploit it, to learn without limits, to explore ancient secrets and preserve forgotten traditions', he enumerates devotedly, putting the glasses back.

'Considering that you've barely survived, I thought you'd respect adversity. And the ability to bring it', I threw in tartly, not getting carried away by the general enthusiasm.

No one comments my remark. Maybe that's better. They'd only add fuel to the flame.

'Woaaaah!', Cherit squeaks suddenly, spurting into the air from his seat.

'We're coming up to the area of the cave now!', Peter informs us, recognizing the environment.

'Hang on!', Dante advises us; he's at the helm, because he turned out to be the one who has a license for motorboats.

I'm starting to wonder how the hell he got it, 'cause he didn't have a clue what he's doing! I have to catch my seat tightly not to fall overboard when we make a violent turn. I'm about to give this lunatic a bollocking when I realize that it was the only method to avoid bumping into a large waterspout, which appears in our way from nowhere. Oh, pardon me. Not one. At least three… four… ten.

Lok screams loudly when the air pressure sweeps him from his seat and lifts him up. At the last moment, Sophie grabs his ankle and keeps him up, but for how long a slender girl can hold up a heavier boy? Cherit raises from his hideout heroically and catches Lok by his foot. With a combined effort, they bring him back onto the board.

'Oh m…', the boy pants, pale from fear, but he cuts it out when he lands onto the floor, hitting his face; the next turn shakes us fiercely, and another one, and once again… we can barely catch our breaths. My fingers hurts from clenching them on the every handle I can find.

Suddenly we make an especially sharp bend, dash past the whirlpools' circle and speed up abruptly.

'Whirlpool's coming back, so we've gotta get into the water now!', Dante yells, drowned by the crashing waves.

'Dante, what're you doing?!', Sophie cries out.

I jerk my head up and now I get what she means. This freak runs us right into the rock!

'Jump when I say so, but not a moment sooner!', he ignores her question, giving another order.

Peter becomes green with fear when he realizes that Vale isn't joking. Sophie squeezes his arm tightly, trying to encourage him. Geez, what a very picture of misery… I hesitate, but I also put my hand onto his shoulder. So what, it's just a cover. Let's make it seem to Vale that I'm not so mean. I'd preferably kick the four-eyes overboard myself, but there aren't the best conditions for such maneuvers – the motorboat jumps onto the water like a pebble during a very enthusiastic 'duck and drakes' child playing.

I clench my teeth not to bite my tongue off when the board shakes and the sides rub against the stone with screeches and crashes; then the impetus throws us up into the air.

'Jump!', Dante makes a signal.

Ready for an enforced bath, I take a deep breath in, close my eyes and jump right into the seething depths. The water mass closes above me like a coffin, but I tear it apart with my head quickly, catching big gulps of air. Lok, Sophie and Peter, one by one, emerge wildly beside me.

'Where's Dante?!', Sophie shouts, spinning around and splashing water aside.

Right, where's this moron!? The motorboat hangs in the air, but it'll fall onto the rocks in no time… If Dante wants to commit suicide, he won't find any better occasion than staying onboard!

Suddenly a brownish spot shoots up into the air in a wide arch. Vale makes a complicated sequence, like an airborne ballet dancer, and lands onto the rock in a smooth crouch - a few seconds before the boat crashes against the precipitous bank and bursts into flames.

Dante straightens up slowly, observing the fire licking the sky. An odor of melting metals and plastic gets into our nostrils. Luckily it isn't mixed with a stink of roasting human meat. By a whisker. What a damn daredevil, brainless swank, idiot to the power!

'You guys OK?', Cherit asks squeakily; he had the easiest way to get out of the boat, on his wings.

Hm, I wouldn't say 'OK' – the second time during past few days I'm dripping wet, my hair drooped like a worn-out mop, and I can forget about my make-up. But I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah. That's quite a plus factor. Peter, for example, falls down after taking one step forward when his ankle fails him. Lok has to support him.

Ah, now I get why we crashed in this place. The water is somewhat… warmer here, which means that it has to flow from underground. There must be its source here.

'How did you even see this place?', Sophie keeps wondering about it while I'm wandering off from the others and climb the waterside rocks. It won't hurt to be few steps ahead of the rest.

'This is the origin of these water spouts', Dante explains, standing in the water up his ankles, as if he had waterproof socks.

'So that means the Gargoyle Titan is nearby', Lok assumes.

'I think you're right!', Peter agrees, staring at the sheet. 'These stones had been formed by a high-pressure water', he examines his discovery.

'And here's a cave', I point out to them, already standing on the high bank.

It takes them some time to get up there. I have an opportunity to pour the water out of my boots and wring it out my hair. It doesn't help much, but well, at least I tried.

'This grove… I could've searched forever by land and never found it!', Peter states in disbelief.

'Let's go', Vale commands, feeling the pressure of time.

'Dante, once we get inside, can't we use the holotome to map the cave's interior?, Lok proposes cautiously, not sure how his idea would be taken.

'Exactly!', Dante praises him, lightening up for the first time in a while. 'I'll leave that to you', he gives him the device. Lok reaches his hands out with solemn respect, as if he was taking a relic. Perhaps he didn't expect such a favour. Well, right now he really deserves it.

A sudden noise from underground breaks the uplifting moment.

'Let's go, we've gotta hurry', Dante rushes us, negligently throwing the holotome right into Lok's hands. The surprised boy catches it tightly, as if he was afraid that he'd drop it, and follows the others.

I'm next to the entrance, so I'm the first one to get swallowed by the darkness. I stand in turbid, lukewarm like an undercooked soup, greenish water. It's a miracle that it doesn't stink, 'cause it looks awful. Oh well, if I could have paid for mud baths and compresses made of various kinds of gunk, I should be happy that now I have them for free, and in such an amount…

Two beams from Peter's and Dante's flashlights touch the stone ceiling. We're forcing our way forward, wading against the current. The corridor hollowed out in the rock is wide, but not that much to keep us from seeing the walls, so I'm a bit surprised when after few minutes we lost them from our sight. The rest also looks around, confused.

'Boltflare!', Dante shouts; the golden streak gets fired into the air like a flare, but it doesn't vanish, just stays above, lightening the interior.

'This is one of the largest cavern I've ever seen!', shocked Peter states and, exceptionally, I have to agree with him.

This place is huge. I don't know how long the water was forming such a breach, but I bet it it's been few hundred years. Though this high, ornamented column in front of us doesn't seem like a natural formation… It looks rather like a human creation. A thick cylinder is coiled by the single zigzag, which turns out to be the tail of a gigantic gargoyle crowning the platform. We watch paralyzed how all of the sudden, a stone podium mounts up from the waters under the sculpture's feet. As if it was an invitation from the Gar-Ghoul towering above us… We peek at each other and after that speechless conference, we stand in the center of the circle.

WOOOOSH!

A stream of water from the stone muzzle hits the place where we've just been standing. Luckily everyone managed to jump aside before the massive wave washed us away.

'Honorguard!', Sophie shouts when the next stream approaches her. Though her cover works, the power of the smack pushes her few steps backward.

'Moving that fast, even water can hit like a bullet!', Dante warns us. Congratulations for your physics knowledge, but what does this info give us?!

'I'm always a step ahead, Dante Vale!'

Oh great. I only missed DeFoe here… Really, I start to dislike him more than this gang of morons which I have to quibble with. He could warn me somehow that I shouldn't step on that podium. Unless he wanted to give me a cold shower in case I had forgotten about my duties. Uh, I remember almost too well.

'Getting past the thrilling Gargoyle was certainly not an easy task', the long-haired freak informs us, standing insolently on the head of the stone sculpture. 'Let's see if you can do that AND manage to beat my men too!'

O-hoo, it gets unpleasant. Eight Suits on the right, four on the left, Grier with Breaker, there are two Mindrones, Redcaps and Strix… We're screwed. Hm, or rather THEY are. I'm in the best position, because I've got allies on both sides, they will shield me if something happens…

'Can I talk to him?', Cherit proposes cautiously, fluttering his wings harder when he gets scared. 'I think there's a family resemblance…'

Not in size.

WOOOSH!

Another water bullet scatters our formation. Maybe that's better, at least they won't knock us off all at once.

'Team, time to get our Titans in the gear', Dante shouts, bent lightly like a panther preparing to jump. 'Caliban, Solwing!' Now he straightens up proudly, as if he had a reason. It turns out that it gives a good effect – the rest plucks up courage.

'Freelancer!', Lok calls.

'GOOOOOO, Sabriel!', Sophie's voice echoes around.

'Gareon!', I'm not going to be worse than them. 'Kilthane!'

'Engage the enemy!', Grier commands.

'Sophie, protect Peter!', Dante orders, seeing DeFoe's men attacking us. Does he never learn from his mistakes?! She broke the guide's ankle!

Nevermind, not my business, I have to take care of myself. I haven't seen such a fight for a long time. Sometimes it was hard, but I've never battled against a group four times larger than mine… The brawl isn't easier due to the fact that every minute someone gets hit by the water bullet from the Gargoyle's mouth. Sabriel's done already, Sophie's left alone against two Redcaps. Luckily Lok tells Freelancer to defend her. In that case, the guide's protection falls onto my shoulders. Me and Gareon shield Peter from the Suits' attacks.

'We need to get past these Suits before DeFoe gets the Titan!', Dante yells. 'Touchram!', he sends the charm to the water under his feet.

The power tears the sheet into two waves which sweep DeFoe's men aside. Just look at it, we've got Moses here. Dante uses Nimblefire and dashes under the closing water walls, strucking down another two Suits; additionally, the waterfalls flow onto their heads from two sides, pushing them down to the bed.

'Look out!', Lok warns him, too late; Dante gets a spanking from the Gargoyle. Hit into the back of his neck with the stream of water, he falls into the greenish depth.

'Dante!', Lok cries out when the man doesn't emerge to the surface.

I got petrified for a moment. You moron, don't you dare drowning. You'd spoil everything.

After a while, Vale, wet like a canal rat, sticks his head out above the surface, snorting and spitting. Good boy. Now relaxed, I return to the fight with a smile. What? I'd be more than sorry if someone else did my job which was supposed to bring me fame and esteem.

My face falls when Redcaps tear my Kilthane apart. There's less and less of us, and the Suits start to feel confident. They're not even bothered by Lok, who summoned Kipperin for no-one-knows-why. The moth-like Titan's presence won't help us gain the victory, because apart from borrowing his wings, he's completely useless. Unless he can buzz. Then he'll piss them off to death like a troublesome fly.

I simply love my black sense of humor. Thanks to that, any situation doesn't seem too serious not to make fun of it. Even the fact that the Suits cut off any way of escape, and to survive the rain of spells, we have to strengthen the covers around us constantly.

Only Lok stays outside the barriers and seems up to something. Most likely, he tries to become the first victim, flying so close to the Gargoyle. I told you so… The Titan hits Kipperin and Lok falls down right into the water. Now he just stares at the colossus helplessly.

'You're outnumbered, Dante Vale', Grier notices the obviousness, standing vis-à-vis our leader. 'Give up before someone really gets hurt!'

No wonder Grier braves such conditions. Vale doesn't look as impressive as before, kneeling into the water and digging in the thin sludge. What is he searching for? Has he gone nuts? Some people bear failures really badly…

'There're more of you, but none more mighty than…', I just realize that Dante lifts an amulet from the bed, 'METAGOLEM!'

Grier and the Suits back up when the colossus raises from the underground beside Dante. The Titan's enormous fist strucks down two Grier's minions, and he himself runs away before the next blow is directed.

'Great!', it unintentionally slips through my lips when Metagolem and Caliban finish Breaker off.

Dante turns around to me, as if he was surprised to hear a praise from my mouth. Oh well. You pissed me off today, but I can forgive you that. After all, I'll do a way better number on you, and then I'll pay you off for every stupid quip and actions. And for now, just enjoy my acknowledgement like a leftover from my table.

'So what, are we gonna end this?', he proposes me, as if we were about to finish a picnic. And as if we didn't fall out before.

'We are', I respond energetically and we both make a battle pose.

'TOUCHRAM!'

It appears that it's us who caused such a noise, but… when our power throws DeFoe's men onto the walls, the crash doesn't stop. We both turn around with one accord and, stunned, observe how the Gargoyle scatter into single rocks, which fall down like a murderous hail.

'No!', I shout.

Damn it, at first Dante stole the Metagolem from me and now I won't even get Gar-Ghoul?!

'Relax!', Lok runs towards us. 'It wasn't a Titan! It was just a magical trap!'

'Lok discovered it, scanning the gargoyle with the holotome, and I deactivated it with my family powers!', Sophie explains, following him.

'Well, well', Dante says in acknowledgement. 'You did a good job! I see that I didn't lend you the holotome for nothing', he smiles to Lambert, who only lowers his stare humbly.

'Yeah, your maneuvers with Kipperin didn't go to waste', I admit, a bit comforted and thanks to that more favorable. I still have chance to get Gar-Ghoul.

Or rather: I would have, if not some overzealous prodigy.

'Zhalia, Lok, Sophie, keep Grier occupied', Dante asks. I'd say that he's already occupied, 'cause Metagolem brings them a lot of entertainment. I want to protest but Dante calls Caliban and before I manage to say anything, he disappears from our sight, making his way up the destroyed monument with Hyperstride.

'I don't know 'bout you guys, but I'm not about to let Dante down', Sophie speaks up seriously.

I clench my teeth. What can I do? Everyone gets enthusiastic over kicking butts, as if it was a spring trip. And I want to get Gar-Ghoul. Meanwhile this unshaven dork will rake in my prize another time… Uh. Dante Vale, I hate you again.

Luckily I have someone to vent my anger on.

**The same day, 16:32**

**The cave of Gar-Ghoul**

**Rouen, France**

When we finally drive Grier and the Suits off and head to the Gar-Ghoul's lair through the secret corridor, we find Dante here – with his butt in a puddle of water, he looks like an oversized, piddled baby.

'Fantastic', he murmurs mockingly, examining his clapped-out duster and standing up.

'What happened?!', Sophie asks.

'He got away', he responds, then adds gloomily: 'With the Gar-Ghoul.'

I clench my jaws not to bite through his artery. What a bumbler, to let someone like DeFoe make a fool of himself… He lost Gar-Ghoul, MY Gar-Ghoul! He'll have to pay for that too. His bill gets longer and longer… I'm not sure if his whole skin is enough to write on it what he owes me. I'll check it someday…

'How?', Sophie can't believe it. 'You mean all our work was for nothing and the Organization won?!'

'This isn't some feel-good fairytale', I remind her coldly, still not able to get over the Titan's loss. 'Sometimes we lose.'

'This is…', Sophie can't find a suitable word for some time, 'awful!'

'We failed? It was all… for nothing?', Peter asks. Geeeez, is he deaf or what?! Yeah, you screwed the mission up, got it?!

A death silence falls between us then. Alllriiight, a wake at Gar-Ghoul's.

'Uhm, guys?!', Lok throws to us, trying to sound vigorously, as if he fought with our sluggishness. 'All the other statues are holding ONE item in BOTh hands…', he notices.

'Oh, give it up!', Sophie snaps, sitting on the stairs like a bundle of worries. 'Don't you realize we lost? You can't turn this around, it's over!', she blows hot and cold, waving her hands. Oh yeeeah, we only lacked hysteria here.

'I bet it's a clue!', Lok still doesn't give up. 'Or a hint of some kind… Gargoyle has water powers, right?'

'Ah, forget it!', Sophie growls.

'Give him a chance', Dante silences her suddenly, coming closer to Lok. Hm, maybe Lambert's discovery is really worth seeing. It won't hurt, nothing will happen at most. It can't be any worse, after all.

'Look guys, there is a hole here!', Lok points at the cavity in the vessel in gargoyle's hands. 'The jug is hollow!'

'It was probably damaged in battle', I state skeptically.

'Of course! We need some water!', Lok doesn't listen to me; he almost slaps me when he reaches to his backpack for his flask. He unscrews it and pours its content into jug.

A shuffle rings behind our backs; we turn out and look in astonishment how one of the statues pulls aside, revealing…

'A secret passage!', Sophie beams.

'I'm impressed, Lok!', Cherit confesses. 'That was amazing!'

'Good one, kid', Dante says with a smile; though he tried to sound a bit disrespectful, I sense a real admiration in his voice. 'I thought there may be more to this cave than the Gargoyle.' Yeah, yeah, don't try to claim some credit now, loooser. Shame stings when a dimwit surpasses you…

'_More_ meaning what?', Sophie wonders.

'Ancient secrets can be more powerful than any Titan…', Dante explains, 'and I think that's exactly what Lok's just discovered.'

'I think he just got lucky', I try to dampen this mutual admiration society a bit, though I'm also glad that we didn't waste the whole day.

'I'm sorry I doubted you, Lok', Sophe doesn't sound like usual when she addresses Lok. She seems really confused.

'Enough with the apologizing!', the boy waves it off, though a little embarrassed. Well, he got used to being pushed around, so too many praises at once could harm him. 'Let's go already and explore! I wonder what's down there…'

'You're not the only one…', Dante remarks, gathering new strength. 'Let's go.'

And what about losing the guide-bum halfway, guys?


	6. Chapter 6: Troublesome Maidens

Hello again!

Last time it took me a whole week to update. I felt bad with it. It wasn't really like me, a real crazy scribbler. I also had a feeling that you didn't really liked the chapter that much. So I wrote the next one, maybe it'll make up for the previous part.

You know what guys? One of my favourite things to do about the fic is answering your comments. Really, I'd wrote the story nevertheless, but without you all it wouldn't be so joyful.

- Kimberly: I did update faster, hurray! :D And I have to admit that you always make me smile. I really feel that you like reading it and that way I enjoy writing, knowing that you won't let me down, always commenting as one of the first people :)  
- CindyKayla: Well, you weren't so easy on me ^^ To be honest, your comment put me in a wondering mood. I was very proud of fitting the whole ep into one chapter, and then I read 'not my favourite'. I didn't know what I wanted most, grit my teeth or start to wring my hands at what a poor writer I am. I even wasn't sure if I write the next chapter. But, as always, I exaggerated it ^^ I hope you will like this chapter more, as I'm quite proud of it. But if not, well, everyone has their tastes :)

- Jess: Hi again! Wow, now I'm so curious about parts you liked the most, but I won't push you to tell ;) I'm glad that someone waits for updates. This one is for you as well! However, I must also say that writing it right now, with Zhalia who has to be harsh on Dante as a spy, is a bit difficult. Making her soften a bit will be even harder... but interesting as well. I love challenges. I hope you will be there to judge if I managed to do it right :)

And last but not least...

- VVindlady! Hello! Woooah, you made my day! When I read your comment, a smile couldn't leave my face. I'm glad you spoke to me! And I'm happy that you like the way I weave my chapters! I also can't live without a touch of humour and a lot of sarcasm ^^ Please, stay here a bit longer! You will always be welcome here!

So, for all of you who make me go further, the next chapter about Joan of Arc's challenge. You know, my real name is Joan too! Joanna, to be precise - it's like Joan, but in Polish. I've got a soft spot for this heroine. But even more for Zhalia, so there's more about her than about the Maid of Orleans ;)

Enjoy and see you soon! I'll try to update fast!

* * *

**15th July 2009, Monday, 16:47**

**The vaults under the Gar-Ghoul's cave**

**Rouen, France**

Well, so Peter stayed with us after all. I didn't manage to push him subtly into some side corridor and block the exit accidentally. What a pity. What are we dragging him with us for if he doesn't even know any spell and when he finally wants to be useful, activates a trap he has been warned about?!

I catch short, shallow breaths after I somehow landed away from the precipice opening under our feet. In which our full-time klutz has just fallen. No, I'm not talking about Peter now, only about Lok. It seems that after few moments of positive surprises, he comes back to his normal self, because, obviously, he didn't manage to jump away from the trapdoor in the right time and now he is falling onto the sharp spikes baring their teeth down there.

'NOOOOO!', Sophie yells, but of course she's not doing anything to help him. Ah, so it's _survival of the fittest_. OK, so I won't blurt out catching him.

Lok's scream echoes in the narrow space.

'Faster, Lok, you're not going to make it!', Cherit hurries him up. He won't make it with what? With turning into a sieve?

I have to move aside when a winged spot shots up from behind the closing hatch, almost knocking me off, and lands on the wooden jetty hiding the trap.

'Yes! You've done it!', Cherit shouts to the boy kneeling on the floor; he's entwined with Kipperin's tentacles. Well, well, so he quite tamed him if he has summoned him in such a dire situation. He apparently doesn't have enough power left for anything else, because after fulfilling his duty, the Titan returns to the amulet.

'Close call, Lok', Dante comments, observing Lambert as he shakes lightly and breaks out in a cold sweat. Yeah, as if the kid didn't notice that he had almost been pierced like a shashlik.

'I'm sorry, mister Vale', Peter speaks up in a confused manner, 'I didn't know…'

Oh well, I also didn't think that turning on the flashlight would endanger us mortally. The guide is justified in some way.

'Relax, I know you're not a Seeker', Dante throws in. Yeah, it's easily noticeable. 'You've got no idea what you're getting yourself into…'

'You know, I think the same thing could be said for Lok', Sophie comments mockingly. As if she had already forgotten that she was the first one to squeal when he was in danger. A split personality or what?

'Hey, show some respect!', the boy bridles at that remark, which helps him win over the fear and stand up finally on his lightly trembling legs. 'I dealt with it! I mean, I'm still alive, right?!'

Sophie doesn't pay attention to him anymore. If Lambert wants to pick her up, I recommend him getting into another trouble. It definitely works. Or he can eventually grow a beard, put on a trashy coat and work out for some more muscles, because now Sophie is goggling at Dante, doe-eyed.

'Dante, why did Peter's flashlight activate the trap when your spell didn't?', she wonders, waiting for her guru's answer.

Right, I'm also interested in it. As well as how he knew there was a trap here… One stare and he had already judged it. It was pretty cool. Though in light of his last failures and mistakes, it didn't explain how he had became the best Foundation Seeker.

'Boltflare is a magical light. I passed by because only Seekers are permitted here', Vale enlightens her with a smile of self-content.

Shame, I wanted to see if his duster could be used as a parachute. Or a hang-glider.

'Why is that?', Lok marvels at it, following his teacher, who actually examines the door visible in front of us.

'Well, my guess: this place is a secret base for Seekers of centuries past', Dante states, opening it for us.

Another covert chamber? I start to suffer a surfeit of austere, cold-like-hell places where the drafts gust and the cobwebs hangs down. Didn't medieval Seekers really have a negligible need for some warmth, coziness and a touch of luxury? I don't expect Persian rugs, but a fireplace would be perfect here. Unless the whole cash designated for the decorations went for the marble sculptures and old paintings.

'Is that Joan of Arc?', Sophie stares at one of them. Despite the flaked paint and a layer of dust covering the canvas, a woman in a halo of light and commanding a group of soldiers can be recognized.

'She must've been the last Seeker to use this hideaway', Dante states, approaching an altar standing far in the chamber; it sticks a mile. You know, it's located vis-à-vis the entrance, on the platform, and it is the only piece of furniture the Maid of Orleans tempted to have. I suppose that when she wanted to chill out a bit after mortal campaigns, she knelt down on the pea.

'So Joan of Arc was a Seeker?', Lok can't believe it.

'Well, if she was a Seeker with a special Titan… or power, that would explain the visions she had that supposedly told her the future', Peter thinks out loud; not having anything better to do, he follows me like a shadow. Great. I preferred when Sophie has looked after him.

'One of the most powerful women in all of history…', she whispers in awe. 'She died just a few miles from here! You know, it's widely believed she was descended from French royalty…', she adds, touching one of the monuments.

'It must've been her regal blood', I assume, observed by the stone warrior's lifeless gaze. 'Great power comes from a noble family name… Even the name like yours', I add cuttingly to the redhead's back. So what? She boasts about her descent too much, she should get used to the fact that not everyone would rave over it. It's really nothing to rhapsodize about.

The Casterwill turns around rapidly, throwing me an ill gaze. I cross my arms and lean over to her, as if goading her: _Come on, sweetie_. _Try to lay a finger on me and you'll see how I deal with my enemies._

'Hey…', Dante's voice interrupts the duel of piercing stares. We both turn around to look at him. He has just picked up a dusty pile of sheets, sloppily sewn with a black string. 'These are her notes… and the key to our next move.'

'So what are we waiting for?!', Lok asks. 'We have to get out of here quickly and then look through them in peace!'

All the men look at us with anticipation. Sophie snorts haughtily and straightens up with dignity.

'At least I don't have to hide my origin', she blurts with all the contempt she has gathered since the beginning of our acquaintance, pulling away from me as if I hadn't washed for weeks.

Hold me. Hold me or I'll rip those luxuriant aristocratic curls off her head, scratch her green peepers out and tear her fashionable clothes into tiny pieces. And then I'll check if she really bleeds in blue, damned princess…

I let all of them be ahead of me. I observe them when they exit the chamber. Sophie's back it is like a red rag to a bull for me, in a tight maroon blouse. I wonder if from that distance Poisonfang would do her a worse harm than tripping over and scratching her cocked-up nose… I have to clench my fist and bang it into the column to calm down. I grit my teeth, now more concentrated on the pain of my raw knuckles.

'Zhalia, you coming?', Dante addresses me; his voice echoes against the walls, it comes to me from everywhere.

I throw him an unfriendly glare. You've got some tact, man. I respond a bit too sharply:

'I am.'

**The same day, 18:02**

**The Rouen-Paris train**

**France**

Dante had been skimming over Joan of Arc's journal for almost half an hour, hoping that he would find some additional clue which he ignored before, an insignificant detail which could make their task easier. Everything seemed clear – with combined effort, they had managed to set that they should head to the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris and seek for the entrance to the underground area, where the Maid of Orleans apparently hid her mystical ring, supposedly the source of her visionary talent. Luckily, the medieval clairvoyant included a map of the under-Paris area in her journal, however, getting there appeared as quite a problem – the seer described the road to the artifact in a series of riddles and instructions, which even after reading them few times hadn't made much sense. Maybe when they get there, everything will become clear and understandable.

Peter's presence would have been very helpful, mainly because he knew Old French and could translate the instructions, but they had had to leave him in the Foundation hospital – he would just slow down the research, especially in such a difficult terrain. They'd manage even in five. Partially if Cherit during his whole long life had learned some ancient dialects.

He looked around. He had been so lost in reading for a while that he wasn't paying attention to what the rest was doing. Strange that this silence hadn't seemed suspicious to him. Though they were the only passengers in the compartment, normally the whole group would have made quite a noise. He saw through the window that the kids went to the landing behind the railway carriage – Sophie was pointing at something in the distance each moment, chattering lively the whole time, and Lok was staring at her, enchanted, more fascinated with her gestures and expression than with anything she was saying. Well, nature probably interested him the most in the guise of his female schoolmates. Next to Lambert's elbow, leaning on the barrier, sat Cherit, delighting in the views and the summer sun. Zhalia, on the other hand, stayed on her place; with her arms crossed and pressed to her chest, she fixed her eyes on the windowpane, insensitive to the landscapes changing behind it. Her whole posture, mainly her tightened muscles, nails digging into her skin like claws and threateningly squinted eyes, trenchantly showed her mood – she was boiling with anger.

'Zhalia…', he began cautiously. 'Is anything wrong?'

She threw him a furious glare; her face was contorted like the muzzle of an irritated cougar.

'Of course not', she snapped only and turned to the window again. In the free translation, it probably meant: _And f*ck off_.

Of course Dante could do as much, but he was afraid that it wouldn't be the best way to solve the problem – because it was obvious that Zhalia was bothered by one. He also suspected what could have put her in a bad mood.

'You didn't take to heart your clash with Sophie, did you?', he asked outright. Hare and hounds definitely wasn't his favorite game.

She snarled with scorn, like a she-cat rubbed the wrong way.

'I'm not going to fuss over this capricious princess who knows nothing about real life', she responded proudly.

'That's good, because I almost thought that you really believed that the true power lies only in the aristocratic name…', he added slyly, pretending that he was still leafing through the famous Joan's journal.

'Not exactly', she said, shrugging. 'There's one exception.'

'You're extraordinarily nice', he smiled with a corner of his mouth, blowing the strand away from his nose.

She looked him up and down again, but now her face suited more the expression which she showed to the world every day. Especially when she smirked tartly.

'And you're extraordinarily stuck-up', she answered him back with a tone of leniency. 'Don't puff yourself up. I was talking about myself.'

Bewildered, he shortly cleared his throat, not sure how he should respond to that. Zhalia laughed under her breath, as if she wanted to sweeten her remark – and she had even succeeded. She had a very pleasant laugh – quiet, kind of a soft purr.

'Don't worry', she calmed him down. 'After all, you look the best from this whole crazy company.'

'And it was supposed to cheer me up, riiight?', he murmured skeptically, aware that his competitors were: an awkward fifteen-years-old, his fretful, smug peer and a timid Titan.

'You've got one fan already, you don't need another one', she responded perversely. 'Sometimes I wonder who hired whom… 'cause she acts like your bodyguard.'

He laughed. She clearly teased him, but, strangely, he didn't mind. At least she lightened up a bit and the whole compartment wasn't full of the electricity she had emitted before.

'Yeah, because I, from all the people, need security in guise of a frail, inexperienced fifteen-years-old…'

'We're getting off soon.'

Sophie appeared in the door. Her unnaturally stony face indicated that she had heard the last remark clearly. Dante felt stupid. Maybe he hadn't said anything offensive, but the Casterwill girl hadn't really had to hear his honest opinion about her. He coughed with embarrassment. Zhalia, though, just crossed her arms again and looked at her askance.

'Oh, look', she threw witheringly. 'We had to sink into the brightness of your perceptiveness to notice that.'

Dante sent her an imploring gaze; she pretended not to see that, raising her head higher with satisfaction. She apparently judged that the score is settled and she couldn't help but announced it to her victim with a victorious stance.

Dante barely hold back a heavy sigh. Working with women wasn't as easy as it could have seemed…

**The same day, 18:21**

**The Notre Dame Cathedral**

**Paris, France**

I admit that the situation has its advantages. Though I clashed with the Casterwill girl and now we both pant with hatred, not even able to look at each other, at least the princess doesn't snap her mouth over and over again, keeping the silence full of pity instead. Well, actually it's my specialty, but she can learn from the best. However, I hope that the boys will be back in a moment; now they're checking where _the eyes of Our Lady_ from the clue are directed. Lok claims that those eyes are the gargoyles on the towers' corners. One of them is similar to that from Gar-Ghoul's cavern and it became our starting point. Actually, I don't know why they work on it – they could send Cherit. Instead, they left him with us. Perhaps they were afraid that otherwise we would kill each other. That's right. I've got few tools up my sleeve, they'd be perfect to do so…

'My ladies…', Cherit speaks up from Lok's bag, left on the pavement next to our feet. 'I think it would be better for our mission if you made up already…'

'It's not me who started the whole argument', Sophie answers, shaking her red mane like a skittish mare.

'Me neither', I shrug. 'I just said few words of truth…'

'Truth!', she repeats scornfully, still turning her back at me. 'I wonder what about the Casterwills can know a person who appears from nowhere and…'

'…and saves the ass of poor damsel in distress!', I finish spitefully. 'Back then, no one held against me that I had made an entrance FROM NOWHERE…', I accentuate strongly.

'We could've manage without that dubious help, which exposed us to extra expenses!', she keeps reminding me of those broken windows.

'Oh, yeah, it'd be better to pay with your own skin!', I ironize. 'I just don't know if it would settle accounts – with such complexion…', I add maliciously. Khehe, she even gasped in surprise.

'Well, it was a little below the belt, Zhalia', Cherit notices cautiously. 'Pointing out someone's appearance…'

'Oh, just shut up', I growl, shocking the gargoyle; he shuts his gob, as if he was afraid to get hit. 'Digging into someone's past is a cheap shot as well!'

'Right, it also can't be considered as cultured, Sophie…', the small fellow agrees with me tentatively.

'Oh, be quiet already!', she reprimands him. 'Someone may hear you!'

'You two can be heard well enough!', Lok states, running to us. 'Why are you shouting so loud?'

'Miss Casterwill thinks she can look down on everyone', I respond bitingly.

'You…!', Sophie turns on her heel with her hands formed into claws.

'Hey, hey, cool it!', Dante quickly places his hand on her shoulder. 'Let's not attract the passers-by attention… Don't forget what Guggenheim told us: the Organization also wanders around in Paris. If we catch their eye, they'll immediately call the reinforces and get us somewhere.'

The girl unwillingly lowers her arms, though her eyes are still burning.

'Have you found anything?', she asks, trying to cool her trembling voice.

'Yeah', Lok admits, picking up his bag with Cherit inside and flinging it over his shoulder. 'Come on. We've gotta find one church.'

**The same day, 18:39**

**The church in IV district**

**Paris, France**

'It looks like it's been closed down for a while', Dante states when we finally reach our destination and realize that the door is secured by the chain with a solid locker. Such a nice way to say: _Get out_.

It's not so easy to throw a Seeker out, though. Dante draws out a cover full of various skeletons keys in every shape and size.

'We're breaking in?!', Sophie looks incensed at that idea.

'Of course not!', Dante responds, choosing the right picklock and slipping it into the keyhole. 'I'm nearly picking the lock, not breaking it.'

'It's something any real Seeker should already know how to do', I accentuate maliciously. Sorry, but I haven't gotten over it yet. Unless I rip off some red strands, I won't stop holding a grudge.

'How to break in the churches?', the girl snarls ironically.

'How to get the job done', I respond haughtily. 'No matter what's in the way.'

'I AM a real Seeker, Zhalia!', she growls, enraged. U-huu, someone loses her temper. That's not very royal. 'I am the heiress to the Casterwill family, and you will not speak to me like that!'

'Hey!', Loks plunges between us and separates us. 'Sorry to interrupt, but Dante is kinda picking a lock in the broad daylight here! So could you not draw so much attention to us?'

I'm about to throw some harsh sentence, but the chain falls down at the same moment. Pheh, what does Dante have such a set of skeleton keys for if he picked the lock more slowly than me with a mere hairpin nevertheless?

'Alright', he announces, throwing both door wings open. 'We're in.'

Aw, great. Again, a lot of dust, the place repulses due to the emptiness and disorder, the floor is sticky from dirt (I suppose it's rats' merit), even the altar doesn't look too impressive, completely bare. Only the architecture can be praised – despite the lack of conservation, the columns and ceiling didn't lose their dignity, even the ornaments on them stay distinct and intact.

'These stained glass windows are a sight!', Cherit finds another value of this place.

'Are you sure this is the right church?', Sophie doubts it. 'I don't see any clues…'

'My instincts tell me that we'll know it when we see it', Dante says without nerves.

And now you've calmed us down… I've already seen your 'instincts' in action. So I take the matter into my own hands and go searching. I examine the interior, but it barely differs from any other abandoned churches. Maybe a bit, due to the fact that it's not completely dark and gloomy. The light comes from the aisle. It turns out that the stairs are there – probably leading to the tower.

'Hey guys, where exactly was the gargoyle of Our Lady looking?', I inquire, squinting my eyes in the stream of brightness from above.

'The cross at the top of the church!', Lok calls back.

I strain my sight, trying to see anything apart from glaring light. It appears to me that something sparkles up there…

'Well, take a look', I call them here. 'The cross is at the top of this bell tower.'

'Hey, there's sunlight coming straight down from up there…', Sophie notices, covering her eyes with her hand. 'How?'

'Reflection', Dante explains. 'There's a mirror up there reflecting light down.'

'And the gargoyle's gaze!', Lok guesses, happy that he gets something finally.

We all look at our feet. We're standing on the round mosaic made of tiles in subdued colors of earth. The sunlight playing on the floor shows glittering specks in the stone.

'That actually makes sense…', Sophie admits. 'The crystal trap from before was all about reflection too…'

A sudden noise interrupts this brainstorm. That doesn't bode well… The dazzling sun precludes weather change and thunders. But other danger could have appeared…

'Stay here!', Dante orders and prowls to the entrance. There, he has a better view of DeFoe and his minions, marching through the center of the church like a very militantly-oriented foreign sightseeing party. 'Find out how to open it', he lowers his voice not to drag the Organization here. 'I'll buy you some time.'

You what?! From what I managed to see, DeFoe brought here six Suits and Grier… If every one of them summons at least one Titan… and he just walks into the crowd as if it was a flock of docile sheep! Geez, can't he really count?! They've got advantage! And he's still winding them up! I don't quite understand what he exactly says because the echo distorts his words, but from the look on their faces, I can conclude that he walloped them pretty well. Now they'll crush him!

'Let's hurry', Lok insists, uptight, probably thinking the same.

'How can we open this? It's a huge marble slab!', Sophie panics.

'There must be a device or mechanism… somewhere…', Lok nervously searches around for such an apparatus. I doubt, though, that it will be placed in such an obvious place like the wall under the only picture hanging in the aisle…

Dante's still in one piece… and they don't even launch themselves at him like dogs at a lone wolf. Him and DeFoe just size each other up from the distance. As if they measured each other's strength. Grier stands between them, but after a moment he goes back, uncovering his superior. Did some split occur due to something Vale had said? Good move, Dante. But I doubt the Organization will accept such a solution to that matter... The gentlemen's duel is not an option. Maybe they'd let him feel so, but if DeFoe loses, Dante will be torn apart by his men nevertheless. Welcome in the Organization. That's how we deal with complicated matters.

'What are we going to do?', Sophie gets anxious. 'He's badly outnumbered!'

There's just one thing we agree at…

'Dante needs me', I state, stopping to listen out and getting ready to enter the arena.

'No, Zhalia!', the girl protests, changing the tactics completely. As if she tried to be in defiance of me. 'He told us to figure this out so we can find the ring of Arc!'

Of course. I could expect that she'd make an about-turn when I only decide to act.

'So that's your method?', I spit it out mockingly. 'You throw one of you to the lions to let the rest run with your tails between your legs? In the Rouen hideout, Lok had to get out of the trapdoor on his own, and now we're drawing out the popcorn and watching if Dante handles the challenge too?'

'That's not it!', she responds with gust. 'He just knows what he's doing! We would only disturb him!'

'Yeah, YOU TWO would disturb him', I snarl. 'I doubt that he planned to fight alone. But having two rookies as his support, he didn't have another choice.'

Sophie gets pink from anger… or shame.

'He didn't take you either', she draws coldly. 'I wonder why?'

'Probably he was afraid that you won't handle the task on your own', I respond drily.

'Or he simply rated you among 'inexperienced fifteen-years-olds'', she parries, mimicking Dante's way of speaking.

Oh, so it stings here, kitten.

'You forgot the _frail_ part', I prompt helpfully.

'You're definitely not frail', she answers back. 'Especially in those trousers…'

'Are you implying anything?!', I throw myself forward, raising my fist.

'That you've got a big bottom!', she drawls, clenching both hands.

'At least I don't have to wear skirts to hide it!', I hiss furiously.

'Girls!', Lok breaks in, pulling Sophie away from me; she almost hurled herself at my throat. 'First, don't make noise or they'll find us! And second… Faster we open the hatch, faster Dante will stop fighting. So help me instead of arguing, OK?'

This argument convinces me. What? I don't want them to tear Dante into pieces. I've already planned a scenario by which my mission must be developed. I didn't include the scene where DeFoe and his men finish Dante off in any act. The final move belongs to me. If they get rid of him now, everything will be ruined. Neither Klaus nor the Professor will be pleased…

Besides… I didn't lie during our last talk one on one. I really think that he's the least irritating part of this team. He can control some Titans well, doesn't need to be led by the hand and doesn't throw tantrums about every single thing. Sometimes he is even being funny. I barely held back a snort of louder laughter at the sight of his confused face - in the train, when I put him down. I should take a photo then and update it in his Foundation profile. The leading operative slapped down with one bright remark, abashed like a missy!

'Alright', I agree first; after all, I won't act like a bratty teenager. 'What do you propose?'

'Remember how Joan of Arc's first trap worked? Only a Seekers' light will let us pass! Let's try lightening up those mirrors up there!'

Well, this is some idea, and quite surprising for a boy whom I didn't suspect of having intelligence outranking that of an edible snake. However…

'But they'll know we're here!' Crap, it's disturbing that the redhead reads my mind… Get off my head!

'But we've got to do something, and quick!', Lok doesn't give up. 'How long can Dante keep fighting up there?'

I lean out a bit from around the corner, controlling the situation. Perhaps not too long… Admittedly, he handled two Redcaps somehow and Caliban protected him from Gar-Ghoul's attack, but he got hit by the Titan's paw and ploughing the floor with his butt, he bumps into one of the overturned pews. He doesn't move for a moment, dazed, but then he rubs the back of his head. So, you're alive. Your luck.

'He manages somehow', I inform them, 'but don't go too far.'

The kids exchange stares.

'We've only got one shot', Sophie states, all tense. 'As soon as I use the power, those Suits will be all over us!'

'We're out of time! Just try it, Sophie!', Lok insists.

'Fine, just remember it was your idea!', the girl warns him, then she aims upwards and shouts: 'Raypulse!'

The bullet dashes upwards, then ricochets and comes back. The kids run aside before the ray hits the stone rosette under their feet… and turns it crosswise, like a drain lid.

'It worked!', Sophie can't believe it.

I run to them to see it with my own eyes. That's right. The way down is open before us. I turn around, seeking Dante with my glare, and give him a signal in case he didn't hear or notice our action. He sees it. OK, so I fulfilled my duty.

'Come on inside', I push those two.

'But Dan…', Sophie begins, half-hidden already.

'He knows already', I push her head under the surface unceremoniously and follow her. Lok jumped in on the other side, he's already down there.

'Just look at it!', he says in awe.

Yeah, really, as if there was anything to admire… We're underground, surrounded by dark rocks; if we stand here for long and don't move, we will freeze. Though… the light from above, falling onto the stones, deflects on their knife-sharp edges and glitters on their smooth sides. One could think that those ordinary blocks are precious onyxes. Alright, but it's not the best time for geological observations.

'Move it', I rush them to go.

'But where's Dante?', Sophie is still anxious.

'He'll be there in a minute', I assure her.

As a response, a patter of male boots is heard. Neither Grier nor DeFoe run like that… and none of them wears a cloak.

'Dante! You're fine!', Sophie sighs with relief when Vale is no longer only a shadow in the dark.

'Are we going to make a stand here?', I throw in wryly. Sorry, I won't get soppy about it. Like I said, one fan is enough for him.

'No, the ring of Arc is our priority', Dante runs to us. 'If it has as much power as I think, we'll need it to fight the Organization…' He turned around as if he reminded himself about something, and raising his hand, he shouts with a changed, sharp voice: 'Touchram!'

The rocks falling down from the vault bar the exit. I hear the Suits rummaging behind it. A good move. It will take some time before they find another entrance, and we really need it now.

'Why is the ring of Arc so important?', Sophie investigates. 'What is it?'

'I'm not sure', Dante confesses truthfully, 'but some of the most powerful Titans are contained in rings…'

'You think that the ring of Arc could contain a Legendary Titan?', Sophie eyes get round from surprise. Dante admits in a murmur, drawing out the holotome.

A Legendary Titan? So that's what this game is about? Legendary Titans have immense powers… If I got one, I'd laugh off everyone who offered me a dozen of Metagolems and Gar-Ghouls…

Sophie needs some time to absorb this sensational news. Unluckily, she seems to have an endless need to blabber.

'We must be in the Paris catacombs!', she notices.

'Yes', Dante nods to finally have some peace. 'Foundation researchers believe that there are secret undiscovered portions of these ancient tombs.'

'Undiscovered until now…', Lok, our newly qualified perfectionist, corrects. 'So what are these catacombs anyway?'

What was unclear in the word: _tombs_, I ask? If not from the lessons, he should have remembered it even from _Tomb Raider_. I won't believe that he haven't played or watched it. At least to drool over Lara Croft or her movie equivalent, Angelina Jolie…

'Well, there were originally rock works, but in the seventeen hundreds the French started to bury the dead down here', our walking encyclopedia explains.

'Stop', Dante interrupts them, so we do so obediently. In front of us, there are mouths of four tunnels. 'There's something strange about this hall… I have a hunch this is no dead end', he leads us further.

I look around when tiny rainbows start to flicker on my hands. It turns out that it's the holotome's radiance reflected in the stones which shine like icicles.

'Check out this rock!', Lok also notices this. 'It's cool!'

'They're called crystals', Sophie throw inattentively, surprised how one cannot know that.

'These notes say to touch _the stone of light'_, Dante quotes, 'and the pure of heart will pass…'

He's the first to place his hand on the wall. Him having a pure heart? Such a cocky bastard? Almost thirty years old guy? I'm sure that dirty things whirl in him like hell. For example, he won't make me believe that he has never stared at my cleavage. Or peeked under Sophie's skirt. Besides, there's no need to seek for long – he's a bachelor, but he certainly likes to ball somebody, and that's not something the Maid of Orleans, who made the vows of chastity, would praise. I just wait when the lightning strucks him.

And nothing. No, I just can't believe it. Who the hell is he?! A male virgin past the expiration date?!

The same to Lok. He entered puberty, dammit, and he's just discovering that he's a man, so he must be interested in such matters for sure. Maybe not in practice yet (I can't believe such a klutz could have already scored anyone), but just in theory – it is unseemly for noble young man, as well… Besides, he should get it in the neck for his stupidity only. Such a horrendous one is a sin, too. Meanwhile, he moves his hand across the wall just like that and comments lightly:

'Guess Joan of Arc was way into the thing of crystals and lightning…'

Alright, but Sophie won't pass. She's just the leading example of a mean bitch… She constantly makes cutting remarks about me, is jealous, torments Lok. Besides, in the medieval era, red-haired women were regarded as witches.

'She had visions, remember?', she says to Lok, touching the stone. The passage opens slowly. 'It is called _seeing the light_ for a reason…'

Damn it, she wasn't sent to hell either.

So, what does _pure of heart_ exactly mean? Nevermind; I rather don't fit the definition either. I'm a double agent, I play in every second, I'm foul-mouthed, I wonder how to lead Dante Vale astray every second… If I touch the stone, I'd be blown for a lark.

Sink or swim! Just quick, while they're not looking. I dash past the stone, not even brushing it with my finger…

'ZHALIA!', I hear only before I got deafened by a terrible crash of rocks falling and striking me down.

For a moment, everything is black; I have to blink few times to stop the dark spots flying before my eyes. I'm alive? I guess that yes if I feel such a piercing pain which doesn't allow me to catch a breath for a while. I try to look around, but my neck is stiff, probably due to the shock. I can move my arms, but my legs… Where're my legs?! Oh, right, I've got them; this stabbing pulsation is coming right from them. My calves are crushed, but I still have a feeling in them, so I'll pull through.

'Hang on!', Lok shouts; I see the sleeves of his blue blouse when he pulls away smaller parts of rocks.

'No, I can get free!', I resist; if he is going to take care of the rescue, the amputation will certainly occur. 'I don't need your help! I can do it myself, stop!', I yell louder and louder, seeing that Sophie approaches me. Oh no, now I know for sure that she'll finish me off. I struggle when she catches my arms.

'We're all in this together', she says seriously. 'No matter what our differences are.'

'On three', Dante commands, along with Lok holding the biggest rock which crushed me from knees down. Sophie tightens the grip. 'One, two, three!'

They push strongly and at the same time Sophie pulls me away. With joint effort, they manage to get me off from the trap. I try to get free from Sophie's hands as quickly as possible and stand up; I'm doing well for a moment, but then awful tingling softens my legs into a jelly; I have to lean onto the wall not to fall down.

'You OK?', Dante asks with concern.

'Ah, yeah…', I answer with hesitation; it's not the best description of my actual state. 'Let's just go', I pretend that everything is fine, cleaning myself from dust.

It apparently doesn't convince Dante. He approaches me and tries to help me stand.

'Everything is alright!', I pull away a bit too fiercely.

'You're hardly keeping your feet', he denies, but doesn't try to get closer anymore. 'I don't have a clue why the trap got activated.'

'Maybe… I don't know… it crossed the expiration date?', Lok throws to lighten the mood a little.

'Rather one of us has dishonest intentions', Sophie says loudly and clearly, looking right at me.

'I guess I know what happened…', suddenly Cherit sticks his head out from the bag. We almost forgot he's here… The Titan put his long ears down, remorse is unmistakably visible on his gob. 'I didn't touch the crystal…', he confesses, looking at me with his huge, yellow eyes. 'I'm sorry, Zhalia, I didn't think about it…'

'No one did. It was supposed to concern Seekers only', Sophie denies.

'It wasn't specified', Dante parries. 'There's only a line written about _those pure of heart_.'

'Do Titans have hearts?', Lok makes a blunder tactlessly.

'What a question, Lok!', Cherit peeks at him so reproachfully that the boy starts to feel stupid.

'I'm sorry', he murmurs, scratching his head. 'I meant… you're spiritual beings, or something like that.'

'Do I look like a spirit to you?', the small fellow didn't allow to be placated so quickly and now glares at Lok askance.

'The heart is just a metaphor', Dante interrupts the discussion. 'Someday a belief existed that it contains the self… not only human.'

'Now many state that human personality is just a group of brain processes…', Sophie has to show off, like always. 'Compounds of hormones, neuron connections…'

'If Joan of Arc wrote _those with pure brain processes_, it would sound awful', Lambert notices.

'Dante said it better', Sophie admits. 'Though I'd rather use the word: _soul_…'

We're touching really sensitive matters now. I guess that's better. I have some time to pull myself together and win over the cramp in my calves. And mask how Cherit's confession relieved me. He got me out of quite a trouble…

'Alright, we'll have enough time for philosophical disputes after we come back', Dante ends the topic. 'Now we've got some things to do. Zhalia, will you manage?', he asks, raising his hand as if he wanted to touch my shoulder, but he stops at the last moment.

I nod, straightening up, though my legs still tremble a bit. I will, somehow. Besides, if I said no, what would they do? The entrance is closed, we will have to crawl through some tunnels before we find a new one. If they don't want to leave me, of course. I doubt it, they're such a group of good scouts. They could even stand this bum Peter without complaints. I can't be worse than this klutz!

Dante accepts my answer. Though he still peeks at me when we go forward, my face apparently doesn't show any emotions, because he gives up eventually. The corridor gets wider and there are mouths of niches visible on the left.

'The ring chamber should be just ahead', Dante anticipates.

'Hey, I've seen something like that before!', Lok doesn't listen to him completely and walks into one of the niches, where a cubic jigsaw draws attention.

'Wait Lok, we were supposed to follow the map!', Sophie reminds him, when Lambert approaches the three-dimensional puzzle.

'I know, I just want to take this with us so I can…', he begins, but cuts seeing that bars are closing behind him.

'Lok!', Sophie squeals.

Didn't I say how it's easier to catch her attention? You only have to be mortally endangered. Yeah, mortally. The second time during one day Lok is threatened with a vision of turning into a pincushion when big spikes start to slide from the walls which are getting closer to each other bit by bit.

'A trap!', Lok shouts, staring wide-eyedly at the spikes which will pierce his lungs in no time.

'Touchram!', Dante tries to crush the bars. A failure. The spell just deflects off them and vanishes in the air.

'Lok, you have to get out of there!' Oh, Sophie and her brilliant advices. Girl, I doubt he is staying here on his own free will, he just CANNOT escape!

'He's finished!', I judge, trying to bend the bars. Yeah, maybe I should also bite them. I'd break my teeth and nails for some idiot who always has to step into the quicksand… If he doesn't get killed now, he'll die thanks to the banana skin someday.

'Oh, I can't watch!', Sophie covers her eyes, as if it was a horror movie in the cinema. I'm also not very willing to watch ripped guts, but I won't play a frail plant and almost faint!

'Just hang on!', Dante orders, drawing out the amulet. 'Lend us strength, Metagolem!'

Someone said we have to spare ourselves, that the fight is ahead of us and so on? Apparently that someone has a very weak memory. He doesn't give a shit that he has summoned Caliban not so long ago and fought eight men and their Titans, so he shouldn't exhaust himself; he summons Metagolem nevertheless. Dante Vale cannot allow anyone to die on his watch.

'You've got to free Lok!', he orders to the Titan.

The clay colossus hits the bars with all force, but the brute strength isn't the thing that will help us now… Metagolem returns to the amulet after a moment. Cherit squeals with fear; now he seems to regret that he has always been stuck to Lambert. What is the kid doing now?! Just drop the puzzle and try to find a device stopping the trap!

'I got it!', he shouts suddenly.

The spikes stop. Just like that. Lok stares at them with disbelief. The first needle is placed a centimeter away from his trainer; second later it'd pierce his foot.

'Ay, he solved the puzzle!', Cherit triumphs. I'd also yell with joy if I avoided turning into a canapé.

The bars go up with a crack. Sophie beams with happiness. Dante is somewhat paler than always, he quickly brushes off a drop of sweat from his forehead. Yeaaah, and now don't tell me it's due to the warmth. You were seized by fear that we'd have to find a spare place in already crammed catacombs.

'The puzzle hid a Titan!', the boy shouts, running to us. 'He bonded with me!'

'Well done', Dante comments. I'd rather start from giving him a bollocking that he comes into the places he shouldn't approach. But well, there are various upbringing methods. 'Let's take a look at your new friend', he raises the amulet above the holotome. 'You found Springer!', a three-dimensional model appears; the creature resembles a two-tailed squirrel or some kind of a desert fox the most. 'This Titan is skilled at solving complex puzzles and intricate traps. You two have a lot in common', he adds with a half-smile. Lok swells with pride.

A sudden explosion behind us breaks the triumphal moment. A fire flares from one of the side corridors, it smells of burnt-to-ashes bones of few unlucky dead men who couldn't rest in peace even after their death.

'Let's move, the Organization is catching up with us!', Dante easily senses the danger. 'Come on!'

**The same day, 19:19**

**The catacombs**

**Paris, France**

'The ring of Arc', Dante announced to the rest of the team, opening the wrought-iron door at the end of the long tunnel.

The chamber was bathed in golden and orange light, though there weren't any torches burning there; maybe someday in the past, but not a single one lasted until the present time. After a closer look, it was noticeable that the aura was coming from a small, silver ring, which floated above the pedestal into the showcase, surrounded by a sphere of energy like a jack-o'-lantern.

'We made it!', Lok commented with emphasis.

'It's not over yet', Dante cooled his zest. He didn't want Lok to get carried away again, like it was with the previous trap. He had a lot of luck with Springer's puzzle, but Vale would prefer if the boy hadn't been constantly acting on spec. Fortune is fickle and you never know when the winning streak will end. When it happens, you need a lot of brains to get out of troubles. And to work on something well, you always have to stay alert and control your nerves.

So Dante wasn't panicking, just calmly walked his team in. He kept calm even facing the rows of armors, which were looking at them with the stares of empty visors, holding various types of weapons. Which suddenly slipped from the lifeless hands and surrounded them…

'Is that the Organization?!', Sophie squeaked, observing the arms circling around them. 'How did they get here before us?!'

'I have a feeling it's much worse than that…', Dante exceptionally couldn't calm her down. He quickly leafed through the journal and found the right page; he skimmed through the notes so many times that he made it very fast. 'It's the knights of Arc inner circle!', he read at lightning-speed and closed the journal, throwing him into his pocket; instead, he drew out the amulet. 'Hand-to-hand Titans only!', he advised his team. 'Caliban!'

They listened to him.

'Freelancer!'

'Sabriel!'

'Kilthane!'

The Titans had just arrived in their brigade and at once they had to parry the attacks of bloodthirsty swords, axes and flails. Kilthane mostly blocked the weapons; Caliban preferred the defense by attack. Sabriel was getting by the swords deftly, fencing like a master. Only Freelancer couldn't stand a chance – he didn't have enough room to maneuver his long and heavy lance, so he got eliminated first.

'This is bad!', Lok judged when the Titan returned to the amulet.

'Maybe there's an easier way!', Sophie shouted, backing to the others who, without any weapons, could count only on Titans. 'Breakspell!'

The charm hit the pike charging at Kilthane but instead of smashing it into pieces, it made the weapon lose interest in the dark knight and launch at the Seekers instead.

'It only made it worse!', Lok stated the obvious thing, running away from the charge with the others.

Only Dante stood against the spear flying to them. Dodging the tip, he caught it with both hands and tried to win over the charm levitating it, but he failed – the magic of this place was too strong. The spear only lifted him up, struggled like a skittish steed and threw the man onto the floor. He hit it with both his shoulder blades, but quickly rolled over to his knees and stood up. Next to him Lok was held captive by a sword almost touching his chest.

'Hyperstride!', the boy jumped; Dante was almost getting proud that the unruly student caught the spell just the second time, when Lok hit one of the armors, knocking it over.

It turned out that the boy's scatterbrained attitude gave a surprisingly good effect; one of the sword fell down right before Dante's eyes, as if the strings lifting it up got cut off. Vale peeked at it, them at the hit armor, supported by Lok. Meanwhile Kilthane and Sabriel dropped out of the game. He wasn't really worried about it, though. Thanks to Lok he discovered the circle's mystery.

'Group up!', he called his allies. They obediently formed a tight circle, almost touching each other's backs.

'Nothing's working!', Sophie tried to outshout the humming of floating weapons. 'Any ideas?!'

'I've got one idea!', Dante admitted and jumped; he caught one sword, hung down on it and set himself swinging, then he kicked one of the armors, throwing its visor away.

'Target the knights', he advised, landing on the floor, 'not the weapons!'

'The source of the enchantment are the armors, so… Breakspell!', Sophie sent the charm into one of the knights.

It leaned over and fell down onto the floor, where it scattered into single iron parts.

'It's working! Keep it up!', he encouraged the girl.

She took it to the heart greatly. Though Dante and Zhalia tried to help her a bit, she did the most of good work nevertheless. After a moment the flooring was covered in unattached armor parts, messily mixed with paralyzed weapons, as if they were in one big forge.

'We did it!', Sophie beamed and even jumped from joy. 'As a team, Dante!', she added and just then Dante noticed that though the jump went smoothly, the landing wouldn't be so nice; the Casterwill girl was simply passing out, she leaned backwards inertly like a rug doll. On an impulse he ran to her and caught her in a crouch, the second before she broke her skull against the marble. 'You and I…', she mumbled before she lost her breath and just drooped her head onto his shoulder helplessly.

'Sophie?!', frightened Lok shouted.

'She used too many powers too quickly', Cherit guessed, staring at the Casterwill's waxen face. 'She is exhausted…'

Dante also observed the pale, weakened girl, who slipped through his arms; she was catching quick, shallow breaths with her half-opened mouth.

_I won't say that you're an inexperienced fifteen-years-old ever again', _he swore, now feeling a stupid shame because of that underestimating remark. Not every fifteen-years-old would have risked her life to save them…

'The Organization!', Zhalia reminded them. 'We have to get out of here! With that ring!'

She and Lok ran to the showcase. The woman broke the glass with the end of the lance while Lok was reaching out to the artifact.

'Wait!', Dante protested, seeing Lambert's hand just above the silver band; too late.

Lok screamed as if he was coming through the ordeal of iron. He was lifted into the air for a moment, with his arms spread open. Then he suddenly curled like a spider pinned with a needle, to the embryonic position, pushing his temples hard.

'Father!', he whimpered in a voice which didn't really belonged to him; he sounded like a six-years-old. 'Dad, is that you?!'

He reached his hand out and all of the sudden he hung down inertly, then plummeted onto the floor, turning somersaults. He landed few meters away, rubbing his head and blinking his eyes in disbelief.

'Are you still there?', Zhalia asked, pulling him up by the sleeve. He didn't respond nor move. 'Hey, get up! You made quite a noise, the Organization will find us soon! It's not the best time to rest!'

'I saw my dad…', he got it out through his bluish lips. 'And… and some man I don't know…'

Dante twitched, hearing it.

'We have to find a way to contain the ring…', he said slowly, still setting it into the right order in his head. He saw Zhalia above him, raised his stare at her and finished: 'It's under a curse. We must prevent it from falling into the hands of the Organization…'

'How are we going to escape carrying her?!', she pointed at Sophie. Dante threw her a warning glare, meaning: 'A comrade is never a burden'. She rolled her eyes and looked aside, but didn't argue about it.

'And when we're trying to grab the ring, it goes crazy!', Lok added, now pulled together, cleaned from dust, only still massaging his neck. 'So what will we do?!'

'Lok, there's no time, we've got to do something, right now!', Cherit only fanned the nervousness taking over them.

'And who the heck am I, Frodo Baggins?!', Lok burst out with despair, losing self-control.

The ring of Arc, an ordinary silver band with one light blue gem, levitated above their heads innocently, as if it had been ridiculing their helplessness.


	7. Chapter 7: The Fellowship Of The Ring

Hello guys!

I tried to hurry up with updating - it's not the pace I'd like best, it's still too slow, but well, not bad! I've received so many nice comments that I got powered up!

One of my favourite parts - responding to your messages!

- CindyKayla: Relax, like I said, I often exaggerate things ^^ Especially when I have a bad day or get angry with myself. But it's fine now, I pulled through my writing impotence ;) I'm glad that there are people who judge my work; it means that they really pay attention. I also like to have everything geared up, so if I make any mistakes, you can mention it to me.

- VVindlady: I'm also a LOTR fan! I just couldn't help but made a tribute to it, especially because the whole ep. reminded me of The Fellowship. As you see, I even ended up entitling the whole chapter like that ^^ You can say it is a small gift for you, as well as a wink to all of my readers ;)

- elainehac123: You didn't comment, but you're my new follower, so welcome here! Speak up to me if you wish, I don't bite. Usually ;) I'm glad you came here!

- Kimberly: Oh, yeah, I also had fun writing that part XD I wanted Zhalia to be a bit shocked... and curious about Dante's intimate life ;) And don't worry, I always wait patiently for all comments, so I don't mind that you didn't write one right away! Writing reviews in a hurry isn't the most pleasant thing to do, right? I prefer to wait longer, but to read nice ones ;) And this one was nice for sure!

- Jess: of course you are important for me! You are my readers, the people I share my joy with. I feel a special connection to you all. Especially knowing that I'm the first writer you're reviewing, that makes me blush ^^ And yeah, Zhalia has her soft moments now... She can't be tough the whole time, it wouldn't be believable, wouldn't it? She's a troubled girl, after all...

I hope I haven't missed anyone! Again, remind me of yourself if I did!

I'm kinda proud of that chapter. It's not brilliant, but I like the parts I included apart from the episode. I don't really like describing the episode plot, I prefer adding my scenes. But well, putting Zhalia's comments during the episode action is fun, too, I can't resist ;)

The last talk was supposed to be placed in chapter 4 at first; however, when I rewritten it, it didn't fit anymore. I'm glad I found a way to include it, after all. And, though it isn't the most humble thing to do, I love it. Mostly due to Cherit's role. He's so cute and good-hearted *.* I wish I could paint the cookie scene, but painting isn't really my thing :P However, I see that picture in my head. I hope I described it well enough to give you the right idea.

Oh, that's a poor thing to be in awe over my own idea. Sorry, guys. Don't mind me. I am a bit afraid how you would respond to that chapter, that's all!

Enjoy!

P.S. from 26th September: Guys, hurry up reading, the next chapter is about to be updated ^^

* * *

**15th June 2009, Monday, 19:37**

**The catacombs**

**Paris, France**

'Alright, that's enough', I say after a minute, annoyed by their stillness. 'Feel free if you want to wring your hands, but I'm not going to wait for some miracle!'

What? If the male part turns out to have no balls at all, I have to show mine.

'We don't!', Lok protests. 'But what can we really do?'

'First, get up and help me find another exit', I command.

'But what then? Will we leave the ring here? After all, no one can touch him not to go nuts!', the boy panics.

'Don't worry', I calm him down. 'I've got some trick up my sleeve. Dante, you know what I'm talking 'bout, right?', I address the kneeling Vale.

He raises his stare to me, finally taking it off from unconscious Sophie. For a moment, he wonders what I mean, with his brows furrowed. Geee, it takes him so long; maybe it's because Sophie's exclusion really moved him. Or he's not such an Einstein, as everybody state. Eventually, something is dawning on him.

'I guess', he responds slowly. 'Are you sure it'll work?'

'No', I don't try to boast, shrugging, 'but do we have any alternative?'

'That's not the best moment for a Russian roulette!' His faces gets contorted with grimace. 'It's enough that Sophie overestimated her abilities! We don't need another victim!'

'Relax, you won't have to carry me', I respond stiffly, offended by the word '_victim_'. 'I'd rather crawl than…'

'That's not what I meant!', he interrupts me sharply, irritated; I haven't seen him in such a state yet. Where did the collected pro analyzing every problem in cold blood go? 'I just don't want any of you to get hurt! I am responsible for you…'

He gets silent, seeing my expression.

'Don't forget yourself', I throw chillily. 'And don't treat me like another charge. We're here on the same rights, as equal operatives.'

You scum, you won't play my superior. I hate guys who think too high about themselves. You're just a Huntik prominent symbol. Like a business card. Which can be easily thrown away; torn apart, crushed, burnt before that…

Alright, cool it. I can't lose my head and vent my anger at him, 'cause it'd scare him away for sure, and then my plans of an after party in some cozy hotel room would come to nothing.

'I'm as responsible for you as you are for me', I add in a more gentle voice, making a face as if my rancor fought against concern.

He looks at me seriously, I give that stare back haughtily, trying not to make it too hateful, though. For a moment, we just size each other up. In the ring's weak, ghostly light, now pale green, his eyes seem very dark. Finally, he closes his lids and lowers his head, as if he was exposing his neck to the executioner.

'Fine', he gives up. 'We'll do it your way.'

I nod. Yeah, honey. Now and many times more, you will dance to my tune, though you rather won't be aware of that.

'Stay here with Sophie, let her recover a bit', I advise him. 'Pipsqueak, let's go.'

Lambert gets up from the floor reluctantly and idles around, following me when I start searching in the adjoining chamber, separated only by a narrow passage. I look the walls and tiles under my feet up and down, searching for any warps or swellings which could hide the additional manhole. A protruding flag sticks my eyes a mile. I approach it and tap it with the tip of my shoe. It shakes a bit, it's not integrated with the rest of the flooring.

'Lift it up', I order to Lok. I kinda like taking the command over.

Lok obediently kneels down. He takes aim for raising the stone few times, then he fulfills my order, panting quietly.

'I think there's another exit back here!', he states, looking at the created hole.

'Ay!', Cherit admits, floating above and observing the just-uncovered wooden hatch with a metal ring on the one side of the quadrilateral.

'Then we don't need this one', I judge, coming closer to the door through which we entered here.

'What're you gonna do?', Lok asks with surprise, leaving the plate aside, 'cause it started to get heavy.

I don't answer; he'll see it himself.

'Touchram!' I aim the double spell at the ceiling just above the entrance. Cherit clogs his ears when some of the ornamented arches get smashed into debris and cover up the door.

'Zhalia, grab the ring', Dante suddenly appears in the chamber, probably alarmed by the noise.

He sounds as if he wasn't delighted with this idea, but had no other choice. In contrast, the ring of Arc itself seems to hear everything we say and react willingly – it levitates to me so quickly that I barely have time to prepare for its attack.

'Careful, that crazy ring will scramble your brains!', Lok warns me.

Relax, kitten, I'll manage. I catch the band confidently and squeeze it tight. A sharp impulse goes through my hand, as if I put my fingers into the socket. I hiss with pain when I suddenly get lifted up and the current flows up my arm; even my hair picks up static, dazzling sparks fly around, dancing all over me and forming images… Klaus shielding himself from a blow… Dante's face contorted with disbelief… The Professor's eyes piercing me mercilessly, him reaching out his hand with a golden signet ring…

I close my eyes tightly, trying to stop the flooding stream of visions, but it only makes it worse; now they become more importunate, they fly through my head with wild speed, which makes me feel sick… I can't distinguish particular shapes, they merge into one, however, a moving sob of a girl rings clearly in my ears… I shake my head, but I can't snap it… Oh no, Arc, you won't play with me, you'll see that no one falls foul of me!

'Headcage!', I shout, dreaming only about making this piercing cry stop…

After a running and running wail its sudden break feels like an… explosion of peace. Silence wraps me tightly like a soft blanket, soothing my pulsating eardrums. I breathe with relief and triumphantly reach out my hand with a ring in it.

I see a genuine admiration on Dante's face. And surprise that I was right, after all.

'Impressive', he admits. 'That's not a spell you see every day. Now everyone, out the back, quickly!'

Enough praises, come back to earth, Zhalia… literally. I lands onto the floor smoothly and follow the rest, already disappearing in the passage. The circle of metal in my hand seems very heavy, too heavy as for a thin silver rod… and it heats up thanks to my body very quickly, as if it drained warmth from it.

No, Arc. Don't think you'd break me.

**The same day, 19:52**

**The catacombs**

**Paris, France **

'We'll make a stop-off now', Dante ordered when the team reached a round room, where two corridors crossed, creating four tunnels to choose. A low, circle-shaped pedestal stood in the center; possibly, it had been used as an altar for funeral masses. Or the French simply hadn't known how to fill an empty space.

'How come?', Lok got surprised. 'Now? What's with the Organization?'

His anxiety had its grounds, but Dante also didn't act without a specific reason. His decision's justification was Zhalia's heavy breath, which he had been hearing clearly for few minutes. During the runaway, the woman had been visibly falling behind. Dante wasn't sure if it was due to her itching, strained legs, tiredness after using an exhausting spell or eventually, the ring's power affecting her despite the mental barrier, but he knew that in every case, she needed rest. He was well-aware, though, that if he proposed it to her, she would try to prove again that she can move mountains, in spite of obvious tiredness symptoms. And just now, she shouldn't overdo it; he had a hunch that they would need their whole strength soon.

'I need a break', he responded, settling Sophie in his arms suggestively. 'I wouldn't like to drop her.'

Of course he lied, and more, with premeditation. Sophie was very light and he was characterized by good condition, so carrying her a bit longer wouldn't be a slightest problem for him. Zhalia peeked at him suspiciously, but he pretended not to see that, moving his neck, which in fact had gone stiff; the bones cracked, making the fraud credible.

'Ah, of course!', Lok was taken in. 'I can carry her if you wish…', the boy volunteered, reaching his arms out.

'That way we both will be equally tired', he protested. 'We won't agree to be driven like a quarry. Let's rest for a while. Zhalia, leave the ring on the pedestal. Lok, I'll seat Sophie, and you take care not to let her fall. Just be careful.'

Lambert hadn't needed to be told twice; when Dante left the Casterwill in his care, he embraced the girl so cautiously as if she was made of glass. Given his usual awkwardness, such delicacy was very unexpected, but praiseworthy.

Meanwhile Zhalia was putting off a bit; Dante thought that she would leave the burden eagerly, but she only stared at the ring glistening on her hand. Catching Dante's gaze, she dropped the band onto the pedestal reluctantly; it hung in the sphere of fiery light. The woman leaned on the wall in her usual pose, with her arms crossed on her chest, turning her head away from Dante, as if he seriously offended her. Maybe she guessed that he had noticed her weariness and she didn't like it?

To placate her, he offered her his flask; she peeked at it indifferently.

'Take it, your body needs some liquids', he encouraged her. 'I know it's unhygienic, but I don't have anything else to offer. I assure you I brush my teeth, and my bacteria are well-trained.'

'I've got mine', she threw ostentatiously.

'It wouldn't fit in there', he remarked shrewdly, pointing at the small pouch hanging down her thigh.

She pursed her lips, caught red-handed, and snatched the bottle. She took a sip which wouldn't be enough even for a sparrow, and gave him the flask back with a face asking: '_So, are you happy now_?'

What a stubborn girl… Why did she try to prove at any cost that she was completely self-sufficient? Dante only sighed; he himself took a big gulp, very thirsty. Lok looked at it with greedy eyes; he had his flask and something even stayed in it despite pouring most of the content in the Gar-Ghoul's cavern, but he didn't dare to let go of Sophie and reach out for his bottle.

'Dante…'

Vale almost choked hearing his name. Lowering the flask, he looked at Sophie, who was wriggling in Lok's arms, slowly blinking her eyes.

'We beat them.. together…', she murmured, trying to focus her sight.

'Sophie! You're awake!', Lok beamed, and not because he could drink at least. He was apparently relieved that the girl had revived.

'O-of course I am!', the girl pulled her peer away with an extraordinary verve, blushing; however, she quickly faltered and leaned onto the floor with both hands. 'What's going on?!', she got out, a bit dizzy.

'We're just waiting on you, Sleeping Beauty', Zhalia murmured from next to the wall, not even honoring her with a stare.

'Welcome back last! We're glad you're finally awake!', Cherit said with relief.

The girl smiled to him gratefully; raising her stare to the flying fellow, she noticed the levitating ring.

'Is that the ring of Arc?', she mumbled, getting up and approaching it to take a better look. 'Something's wrong with it, I can feel it!' She reached her hand out to touch the band, but she quickly stepped backward with a moan, struck by its energy. 'It's cursed!'

'We can't do anything with the ring like this', Dante spoke. 'Know any good Casterwill spell, Sophie?', he asked, trying to show her that he didn't treat her patronizingly. She deserved it.

'Yes!', she didn't hesitate to answer. 'Well, I should say… maybe', she corrected herself honestly. 'I've read all about it, but… I've never seen a real curse before…'

'Won't be your last', he threw with a smirk.

'You'll be OK, Sophie', Lok comforted her, embracing the girl's shoulder. 'You're like, a homework master!'

The girl apparently didn't like that dubious compliment; she pushed Lok away with dissatisfaction and approached the ring. She surrounded the light sphere with her hands, focusing on the artifact. She closed her lids, a piercing moan came out from behind her pursed lips. Sweat pearled on her forehead, the girl almost broke her teeth, clenching them hard and still howling dully as if she was possessed.

'Sophie, come back to us!', Lok shouted, seeing her in such a state.

'You can do it, just keep it together!', Cherit supported her.

'Revoke!', she screamed sharply.

A beam of light jerked up between her hands, filling the whole room and blinding everyone. Dante barely saw anything from behind spots dancing before his eyes; he had to cover his face to let his sight come back to normal. When he lowered his arm, the ring was just falling onto the pedestal in front of Sophie, ringing like a silver bell.

'It worked!', Lok beamed. 'Nice!'

'Yeah…', Sophie admitted, leaning over the plinth; she was exhausted, the spell demanded an immense amount of power from her… '…but only for maybe thirty minutes. Then the curse will overpower my magic…', she announced, seeming ashamed that she couldn't have done more.

'That's thirty minutes more than we had', Dante reminded her, leaning over her and placing his hand on her shoulder. 'Good work', he praised her, trying to redress her for the distress he had caused before.

Sophie beamed; Dante felt a little better knowing that he had somehow made up for his mistake; but at the same time the way she looked at him was embarrassing. He had a feeling that he shouldn't overdo the kindness; it would lead Sophie to wrong conclusions for sure. He backed and then got busy with the ring. He lifted it up, examining it too attentively to look natural. Zhalia interrupted that performance; she took the band from his hands and then started to check it on her own. Meanwhile Dante drew out the holotome, put it onto the pedestal and opened it.

'Seekers, we have a mission', he announced. 'Named: _Joan of Arc's ring_. Our objective: protect the ring of Arc from the Organization and safely deliver it to the Huntik Foundation safehouse.'

'Notre Dame is the Huntik Foundation safehouse, so they must have one', Sophie remarked.

'But look!', Lok waved his hand at the underground map projected on the holotome; red animated silhouettes loomed in the corridors. Each one had a formal outfit… 'I haven't seen so many bad Suits since my TV got stuck on the news channel… We'll never get past them!', he spread the prophecies of doom.

'True', Dante agreed, 'but if we split up, our chances increase, and the holotome will help us avoid the Suits.'

'We'll take the paths of least resistance…', the boy wondered out loud. 'So, who takes the ring?'

'Lucky for you, my disguise kit has a selection of rings', Zhalia butted into the conversation, dropping four bands onto Dante's hand. 'I modified them with a spell…' Vale even know which one. 'So now we have three fakes.'

Dante peeked at her askance. When did she manage to use Formtake and make the ring's duplicates? And what for if she hadn't known his plan then? Did they have a similar idea in the same time? He didn't believe in coincidences, but Zhalia's professionalism could help her anticipate the events, just like him… perhaps.

'I get it, we'll all have one!', Lok picked up. 'The Organization won't know who to go after!'

'But if one of us gets captured, their magic can steal the info right from our heads!', Sophie challenged the effectiveness of this method.

'Exactly', Dante admitted, 'so no one will know who has the real ring except from me. Is everything clear?', he asked, looking at every face.

The kids exchanged stares hesitantly. They probably were afraid that the burden would fall onto one of them. Dante didn't undeceived them. It was exactly how the bluff was supposed to work: no one could know their role. He gave all of them one ring. Lok examined his suspiciously; he raised it to Cherit for check-out, but the Titan only opened his paws helplessly. Lok shrugged before he threw the copy to his pocket. Sophie tried to sense if her band was emitting any energy, but with no effect. She only sighed and hid the ring. Zhalia slipped hers onto her finger; it fitted perfectly. Joan of Arc had to have equally slender hands, which contrasted a bit with her low descent and military career. Dante always regarded Joan as an admirable, but plain female of simple looks; that discovery had verified his opinion. However, he still couldn't imagine a lady with such petite hands to wield a sword effectively. But, like Cherit said – women still remainded the greatest mystery…

'Now we'll split up', he decided. 'Choose your corridors.'

The kids accepted it without dallying, but without enthusiasm either. For a moment, they argued where to go, finally they reached an agreement. Zhalia stayed philosophic about it; she took her place next to the east mouth; nonchalantly leaning on the wall, with her eyes closed, she looked as if she was taking a nap.

'Alright, everyone goes their own way', Vale announced when only the north corridor had left for him. 'And don't panic. Everything will be alright, I'm certain.'

Lok nodded; Cherit's presence also gave him a lift. The Titan, despite the fact that the boy usually had been getting him into trouble, felt the best by his side. They sank into the darkness of the west tunnel. Sophie slowly marched into the south one. Zhalia opened her eyes, straightened up and also was about to leave.

'Zhalia!', Dante stopped her. 'Wait a minute. There's something I want to ask you for…'

**The same day, 19:57**

**The catacombs**

**Paris, France**

I peek at him above my shoulder. Why am I not surprised?

'I'm listening', I respond calmly, turning to him. My profile leaves a lot to be desired, mostly due to my snub nose. I look way more favorable en face.

He reaches the ring out to me.

'Could you make one duplicate more?', he asks.

I'm not really dying to waste my energy for his whims. Anyway, not for ones like those. I'd rather accede to his proposition of a rough quickie on the pedestal. Besides, that's probably what Sophie accused us of, when she was leaving the room and threw us a suspicious glare. What does this unappeased teenager imagine, huh?! That right when they vanish behind the corner, we jump at each other like two sex-starving maniacs? Nope. Well, at least not YET.

'What for? Every one of us have a copy. And you even have the original', I add, loosening my face in a sly smirk.

Dante doesn't show his shock in any way, which makes me a bit anxious. I thought I'd make him a surprise, however, he looks as if he anticipated that.

'Yes', he admits; probably considers any pretending as unnecessary. 'But I'm not going to keep it. I've got a certain idea. But I'll need your help again.'

I nod, sensitive about every change in his behavior.

'At first I considered the possibility of making out with the ring on my own', he explains carefully, 'but I assumed that it'd be too high risk, given that DeFoe apparently holds some grudge against me and won't give up unless he gets me. He'd leave you at peace and that's a huge value, but if he concentrated his attacks on me, I doubt I'd protect the ring of Arc. He'd get it with ease, especially because he probably called the reinforcements. We'd find ourselves in much worse troubles.' I nod again. 'So, I thought about other way. During the fight in Lore's townhouse, I noticed that Gareon can turn invisible temporarily', he carries on. 'I called it back now and… I thought that it could come in handy. What do think about making him slip between the Suits and deliver the ring to the Foundation hideout?'

I am silent for some time, observing him attentively. His face, as well as his eyes, doesn't show any emotions, still, wary.

So, you want to check me. That's why you're spoon-feeding me with the legendary ring, giving me a chance either to protect or to appropriate it. That's the test I've been waiting for since I fell into the crystal trap.

I didn't expect him to wave it aside. I know I exposed myself to suspicions and feel ill at ease. That was the first mistake I've made so far, but it can cost me a lot if I don't act the way I should.

Luckily, the craving for the ring waned when I just realized that it wouldn't be very useful for me. The curse precludes it from being used for my goals. I won't win over it – Headcage works only for a while and weakens me a lot in a battle against Arc's immense power. Of course, Klaus could examine the spell and maybe even break it… but if the ring got into his greedy hands, I would never see it again.

Besides, I don't know if I really want to have it. It caused me to get overflowed by doubts. What did those three clear visions I saw mean? One of them indicated that I will succeed at cheating Dante Vale. But the other two denied it – Klaus' face was horrified, and the Professor didn't look pleased to see me either. I know that look and it doesn't make me optimistic. Does it mean that something will go wrong? Maybe I'll trick Vale, but when he sees through the mystification, he'll slip through my fingers somehow? Will he take his secrets to the grave, leaving me only with his useless corpse? And… exposing me and Klaus to the Professor's wrath?

Oh no, I won't allow that to happen. I won't let it be that a stupid trinket throws me off balance. That's probably what it wanted to do, it's some kind of a defense mechanism, like a frog which can't do much, but still tries to be scary, puffing up and showing its threateningly-stained skin. If I only act according to the plan, failure is not an option.

Now relaxed, I smile lightly. I know what to do.

'Brilliant', I praise him too much.

Dante gives the smile back. Perhaps I stared at the ring for too long; now it seems to me that his pupils are surrounded by a bright border of light.

'I won't manage without you', he responds humbly. 'So, can I count on you?'

I know he doesn't ask only about this task.

'Do you have any doubts?', I throw coquettishly, regaining my courage. That's enough to assure him; only guilty ones talk through their teeth, trying to hide their true intentions, confess repentantly, are humble and meek. People who doesn't have anything to hide act naturally, freely and loosely. One point for me for psychological knowledge. Seeing my confidence, Dante calms down apparently.

I draw out the amulet and summon my pet. The small fellow clings to my shoulder with his sticky fingers. I shortly explain him what he has to do. He looks at me with his yellow peepers and only pats my back with his tail as a sign of acceptation. I scratch his nodular head. Dante reaches the ring of Arc out to me, keeping his hand at a safe distance from the Titan's mug; Gareon wriggles nervously observing him unfriendly. He asks me if he can snap up his finger. I refuse quickly, 'cause I know he's ready to do so. _Don't scare him away, _I lecture him. _Rather let him stroke you. _The Titan bristles up a set of horn flaps on his back with disgust. I hold back a laugh caused by his reaction, busy with creating another copy. Done; I give it to Dante. I hang the original down the Titan's neck and check if it won't get torn off.

'Alright', I announce.

We both watch Gareon disappearing from my shoulder and blending into the environment. He slips from the chamber without a sound; if I hadn't known what he was doing, I would have never realized his presence in the catacombs.

'I wish everything went easy', Dante voices his hopes. 'I guess we will manage to run away from the Suits for half an hour. But if they hem you in…', he begins cautiously, 'don't start a fight, just give them the ring. They'd realize that it's a fake. Then direct them to me.'

'Do you want me to expose you?', I raise my eyebrows, surprised.

'You think it'd be better if they chased Lok or Sophie?', he responds with a question.

'That's what this is all about, right?', I shrug. 'The Suits are supposed to run after us scattered. More people they chase, harder for them to join forces later.'

'She's still exhausted', he shakes his head. 'I'm already starting to regret that I let her go alone. And Lok… he's very enthusiastic, but even two Suits are too much for him, at least for now. It won't be any problem for me, though.'

'Do you always like to play a hero?', I make a cutting remark.

'I just don't want you to suffer any harm', he denies, a bit offended.

'How chivalrous', I shake my head theatrically. 'As you want.' I can even set them on you, if you wish. 'Well, so… good luck', I add, preparing myself to leave.

'Same to you. And… watch yourself. I'm not saying it as to a charge, but as to an equal operative', he accentuates with a slight mockery before the darkness swallows him.

What a pig. But wait, you'll get what you deserve.

**The same day, 20:19**

**The catacombs**

**Paris, France**

Fifteen minutes still left and I already have enough of weaving my way through the labyrinth of corridors. The battle against Arc, though short, was very intensive and drained some energy from me. My legs will come off soon; in places where the rocks hit me before, bruises spring up like mushrooms. But what can I do? Sit with my arms crossed and wait, whistling? I promised Dante to drag the Suits away from the kids. So that's what I'm doing now. I've got three breathing down my neck…

What a pity I forgot to take the ring off from my hand before I blended with them in disguise. If I did, everything would have gone smoothly. I mimicked the accent well, the red-haired mouse who fell victim of my ambush and had to borrow me her clothes, wore the same size, and additionally, a wig – I knew that such color and hairstyle simply couldn't be natural. But it happened, one perceptive Suit (it probably excludes one another…) noticed the band on my hand and all of them started to chase me. Luckily, I lose them at one of the turns. At least I don't have to cram in a jacket and creased trousers.

I just want to leave those awful catacombs and find Gareon. I don't even know where he is now – at such a distance, our telepathic connection almost disappears. He haven't returned to the amulet, though, it means he's safe and sound. Maybe he even finished the mission? Of course I won't know for now – only mister leader will get the message from the Foundation, his faithful pawns may get stuffed.

'There's an exit up there!', I beam, coming down the stairs and seeing the end of the road before me. Finally. I scorch like crazy despite the blisters I discover at my feet with every step I make.

'Not so fast, Foundation scum! We know who you are!'

I slow down sharply when a groups of Suits springs up in front of me. And it was supposed to go nicely!

'Oh, I doubt that', I dash them, putting my hand on my hip. That gesture enrages them; they aim at me. I anticipate their spells. 'Shadowspeed!'

They look around in surprise, wondering where I disappeared after a nimble jump. I land behind a long-haired gingy and get rid of him with Darksleep. The rest, alarmed by their colleague's elimination, turn around as if on accord.

'Grab her, Redcap!', the red-haired operative shouts. Ouch, she reaches such a high register… I silence her with a kick to the face.

Her blond peer launches himself at me with doubled efforts.

'Hold them up!', he growls.

I avoid his blows, deftly slipping through his punching fists and feet. Eventually it gets a bit boring. I reduce my field of vision with both hands and staring right into the blonde's eyes, I drawl clearly:

'Mindsight!'

The blonde shakes his head, confused, then he tries to hit me again. I move out of his way. The kick doesn't turn out well too, I dodge it smoothly.

'I know where you're going to punch before you do', I tell him to make him give up that tomfoolery.

He doesn't take it to the heart. He directs his fists at me again. I warned him. I crush him down with one accurate kick to the chest and intend to leave him here.

'Those powers!', he pants, getting up. 'You must be…'

'Who cares?', I interrupt him derisively. 'You won't remember anyway. Simplemind!', I turn around without a warning, hitting him with the spell. I don't check if it worked, only buzz off to get the hell out of here before I got chased again by such clumsy louses which can't even entertain me a tiny bit.

WOOOOSH! A ray of energy flies right before my eyes. If I had been a step forward, it'd have burnt my nose.

'What?!', I growl, directing my stare to the place from where the bolt came.

'A shame, Zhalia Moon…', a familiar, irritating voice speaks up. 'You were so close. Too bad…'

Hell yeah. Of course you're really sorry, DeFoe. I pant with hatred, seeing his whole merry team surrounding me in a semicircle. Damn, did he have to bump right into ME?! Dante wanted to play Superman so bad, they could have fun with him! I just want to get to the surface and breathe in some city fumes instead of odor of the local occupants. Why can't DeFoe just leave me? He knows I'm not really on the Foundation side! But he apparently doesn't care. Yeah, he really makes my mystification more believable, trying to kill me like one of the ordinary Huntik agents…

'Come on then!', I goad them. 'But while you're wasting time with me, Dante's escaping with the ring!'

If that's what he so desires, here it comes. DeFoe would probably seek him to get revenge.

'Oh, how clever', DeFoe mocks me theatrically. 'But… I know you have the real ring of Arc. You see, we've already captured the other three fakes…', he grins derisively.

I itch to wipe away his arrogant smirk. With a fist. Though I should probably start from punishing Dante. I swear, the first part of my body which he'll come to know better will be my leg when I'll kick his butt! He vowed so much that he'll take everything onto his shoulders and now it turns out that it's me who's doing the dirty job.

'Can't those idiots do anything right?', I wonder out loud.

'Destroy her!', DeFoe orders.

Not so fast. I jump away from the Suit's blows skillfully, but it's harder for me to avoid Mindrone and Kreutalk. I hiss from pain when the Titan's acid brushes my arm. The second hit tears my blouse. Now that's too much! One simply doesn't destroy a woman's clothes without being punished!

'Fight for your lady, Kilthane!', I summon sharply, shouting my frustration out. With the dark knight by my side, I feel a little more confident, especially facing the next charge.

'Attack!', DeFoe insists.

'Jokoul!'

'Redcap!'

Oh, great. DeFoe still uses everyone around to get out unscathed.

'I know your type, DeFoe', I throw mockingly. 'You had an easy life, isn't that true?'

'Surround her!' My words doesn't make an impression on him as long as he has me in the palm of his hand.

'Because of that', I continue in defiance, 'you think you're better than everybody else, and you think you have the right to lead them…'

'Let him have it!', he growls, irritated that the prey has guts to retort.

Kilthane shields himself, but three bolts at once is much even for such a strong guy. If Mindrones crawling under the ceiling attack him now, he'll be off. I can't allow that; without him, I won't manage for sure.

'Impale them, Strix!', I call.

Surrounded by the bloodthirsty insects, I feel safer, especially because those small Titans handle bigger Mindrones with ease – they simply pierce their single eyes, making them explode into dust. The last bug buzzes to DeFoe. Such a comical view – a grown-up dude squealing from fear at the sight of a hornet.

'Assist me!', he shouts.

I don't feel like laughing anymore when Jokoul takes the hit, and two Redcaps aim at me. At the last moment Kilthane covers me with his shield, scaring the other Titans away from me by waving his curved sword around. Busy with protecting me, he forgets to defend his own back. He falls down, paralyzed by Kreutalk's acid, and it seems that he won't get up anymore, given that he gets hit every second.

'Is that it, Miss Moon?', DeFoe mocks me. 'No more… subterfuge?'

BOOOM! One of the Redcaps scatters into tiny pieces.

'That's a big word for such a small-minded man…'

I must have a stupid expression, observing how Dante himself emerges from the clouds of battle-risen dust. You marvel? He walks peacefully as if his Caliban hadn't just split Redcap in half and there wasn't a group of enemies around. Meanwhile I… damn it, I got the role of a damsel in distress whom he has just rescued. I don't want him to see me like one.

'Dante, I tried to keep them busy', I explain myself, scratching my neck nervously.

He throws me a smirk, as if he knew perfectly how it had looked like. He tries to prove me again that he doesn't fall for my confident poses. Well, I'll let him think so. That's better for me.

'What is the meaning of this?!', DeFoe gets furious, enraged by his enemy's mere sight.

'Zhalia, go ahead', Vale encourages me, 'give him the ring.'

I shrug and nonchalantly send the band flying to DeFoe's feet. He scrambles for it greedily, gazing at it lustfully.

'It can't be! Another fake?!', he can't believe it. 'Which one of you really has the ring of Arc?!', he gets more furious each second… and more nervous as well. It staggers his imagination that we could have made a fool out of him.

'None of us did, of course', Dante responds with satisfaction. I guess it's DeFoe's frustrated look and the fact he pushed him to the point of it that make him so amused.

'Dante!' With a loud patter, breathless Lok and Sophie approach us running; they're a bit shabby, but safe and sound in general. Cherit is with them too. The dream team together again. 'Our thirty minutes is almost up, we've gotta get out of here!', the boy rushes us.

'The real ring of Arc was safely delivered to a Foundation safehouse ten minutes ago', Dante calms him down.

'That's impossible!', DeFoe almost spits this sentence out. 'No!'

'Actually, it was pretty easy', Vale spreads his arms disrespectfully. 'After we split up, Zhalia's Gareon took the real ring and slipped right through your defenses', he enlightens the unaware ones. 'You see, Gareon has the ability to turn invisible for short periods of time. Combined with our diversions, that allowed him to escape to the surface and reach a Huntik Foundation safehouse in plenty of time…'

'But that means…', DeFoe chokes out, stunned and infuriated at the same time.

'You lost', Dante finishes in his place, 'before you even knew it.'

'Oi, that's the Dante Vale touch!', Cherit comments with pride.

'Yes, we did it!', Lok and Sophie triumph, giving a high-five.

'If I can't have the ring…', DeFoe drawls; his hand gets covered by a veil of cold brightness, 'I'll have you!'

'DeFoe', Dante interrupts his performance before the maniac manages to name the spell, 'there's another interesting consequence of my strategy…' Our. You wanted to say: our. Without my duplicates of the ring you could have gotten stuffed with your idea. '… I've planned just for you!'

'Oh, and what would that be?!', DeFoe's charm burns out like a blown-out flame.

'Your forces are spread through all the catacombs', he enlightens him, 'while mine are right here.'

That remark does the job; no one ignores four Seekers and their Titans, especially after witnessing them in action. DeFoe's men run away almost kicking their butts, leaving him alone.

'Useless cowards!', the panicked man screams. 'Next time, Dante Vale…!'

He doesn't finish his threat, turning away and following his minions, which proves that he's not more courageous than them. I raise my hand to trip him over with a spell; he deserves a lesson after playing with me like that.

'Let him go', Dante stops me. 'We have business to take care of.'

I shrug. Have it your way. Just one more time.

**The same day, 20:51**

**The Huntik Foundation hideout**

**Notre Dame**

**Paris, France**

'I take it you got my message', Dante begins, addressing a ginger-haired Foundation worker.

You don't even know what a pleasure it is to finally get to a warm, dry and cozy place after crawling through stuffy, cold and revolting tombs… Even if the Foundation's huge library lacks hot coffee and a comfortable sofa to let me stretch my legs. However, the most important thing is that I found Gareon here; the small fellow immediately jumped into my arms. He doesn't like to leave me for long. I have to redress him for that separation, so I scratch his rough skin patiently.

'Yes', the man admits. 'I wasn't quite sure what was going on but I prepared the reliquary right away… and it does seem to be holding.'

I skeptically glare at the ring placed on the lining. From that distance, it looks innocent and ordinary. As if it wasn't rummaging through my brains not so long ago…

'Fine, but can you tell what it is?', I insist. That riddle still bothers me. I want to know what I sacrificed not to blow my cover in front of Dante. 'An amulet maybe?'

'I don't think it's one of the Legendary Titans, if that's what you mean', he responds. 'I'm guessing it's just an ordinary cursed ring.'

Yeah, that sounds comforting. I don't even regret that I decided to give it away. I don't need a jewelry which sends me hallucinations.

'With that strong of a curse, not even an elite Seeker could sense a Titan inside', Dante disagrees. He always has to spoil everythign…

'OK, I'll request our top experts from the Huntik Council and… we'll figure it out, alright?', the ginger proposes.

'Fine', Dante accepts such solution. 'Till then, don't let the ring leave here.'

I lose interest in the continuing conversation, concentrated around the chain of security procedures. Instead, I eavesdrop the kids' talk.

'Lok? Did the ring of Arc show you anything? Like… visions or something?' Sophie asks hesitantly, lost in reading a thick volume until now. She's got some attentions; the princess took the only armchair here. She's treated leniently 'cause she still gathers her strength after her achievement with sealing the ring temporarily. What a wimp.

'Yeah, some were good and some were bad', Lok admits, not so moved. He can act so light-heartedly, he couldn't have seen his own face when the ring of Arc had released him from its grip.

'Mine were all bad', Sophie confesses in a whisper, curling. 'Really bad…'

'Oh… hey, all those visions meant nothing, OK?', the boys calms her down awkwardly. 'All that s_eeing the future_ stuff is just a story!'

'Right', Sophie tries to convince herself to that at any cost. 'It was only a cursed ring!'

Yeah. Only a cursed ring. It means nothing that it caused confusion within me. It couldn't do anything more than that. Now it's not a danger anymore. I form my future on my own, it's not shaped by some stupid trinket.

'You know, you two were something to see today!', Cherit praises them suddenly, landing on Sophie'a armchair. I guess he's trying to drag them away from unpleasant topics.

'Yeah, Sophie!', Lok picked it up willingly; he's such an optimist, he hates talking about difficult matters. 'Using that spell you've only read about, and on the first try! You were great!', he sucks up to her, that's obvious. He'd say anything to make the Casterwill look at him more favorable.

'What about you?', she repays him, apparently with more spirit. 'Psyching out those Suits, leaping from the pit… You're like a real Seeker or something!', she mocks him; the fly in the ointment…

'Don't sound so surprised!', Lok bridles. 'I'm gonna give Dante a run for his money… someday…!'

'Sure you are', she throws leniently. 'Right after Cherit beats Caliban in armwrestling…'

I have great fun due to their raptures. They're completely forgetting that that's the two of us who took the whole weight of the action. Well, nevermind. I can stay the power behind the throne. I'm used to that.

'You also were amazing today, Zhalia.'

I shiver a bit, surprised by a brush of someone's breath against my ear. I turn around, just noticing that Dante has been standing behind me for few minutes already and also listening to the kids' bantering. I should realize it; Gareon started to wriggle strangely. I calm him down, patting his scraggy side, but he still hisses with hostility. Well, at least I tried.

'Thanks', I throw to Dante with a light smile, ignoring my grumpy pet. 'You also showed your stuff. No wonder Guggenheim chose you for that task.'

'I wouldn't have done much on my own', he shakes his head. 'That's thanks to our teamwork that everything went according to the plan. And thanks to that little fellow here', he reaches his hand out to scratch Gareon's head; at that sight, two sparks ignite in the Titan's eyes.

And now Dante's got some comeuppance.

'Oooouch!', he hisses, pulling away rapidly and shaking his hand. 'He's bitten me!'

'Gareon!', I snap at the Titan, congratulating him on that move in my mind, though. 'Bad boy! Come back to the amulet at once!'

The gecko throws Dante a mean glare and obediently disappears from my arms.

'I'm sorry', I say to Vale, though I itch to burst into laughter so badly, seeing his face of an offended five-years-old. 'He feels kinda… out of sorts.'

'I noticed as much…', he murmurs mockingly, watching his hand; there's a semicircular, still bleeding trace of teeth on the loose skin between his index finger and the thumb.

'Should I kiss it better?', I ask playfully, biting my lower lip seductively. My chance to flirt a little.

'I don't think so.'

Sophie breaks the perfect moment to cast my net. Bitch. She is fainting the whole time, and when she sees me next to Dante, a berserk wakes up in her!

'Oh, you've suddenly regained your strength', I remark ironically.

'Fortunately, otherwise Dante wouldn't get out of here safely', she grunts, taking the man's left hand. 'I'll dress it.'

'There's no need to', Dante calms her down, taking his hand back and hiding it in his cloak's pocket. 'That's just a mere nip.'

'I wouldn't say so', Cherit judges. 'Someone should teach Gareon some manners… Maybe I should talk some sense into him?'

'He'd bite off your whole paw', I warn him.

The small gargoyle lowers his sticking-out ears, not very pleased with such a vision. Sophie's face also indicates troubles.

'Not only Gareon needs some savoir-vivre lessons', she comments cuttingly. 'Like master, like man.'

I bridle; that remark pricks like a sting, and it doesn't want to let go. For the first time after a while I don't know what to say. I'd love to deny comparing me to my irritable, introverted Titan, but I can't – I'm too well-aware that we've got much in common. We both have to hide in order to survive, otherwise we will get crushed. We both scare people away. And we both know how to bite when they cross certain borders.

'Sophie, that's enough', Dante cuts the quarrel; I'm delighted with his face, full of remorse. Oh, my knight on the white stallion, really. You always exaggerate your role in such clashes. 'Let's not make a fuss about nothing.'

'Of course', Sophie agrees exceptionally obediently. 'After all, we'll go separate paths soon… we can't end our cooperation with an argument', she adds spitefully.

I purse my lips into a thin line and turn at my heel.

'Hurry up, will you?', I throw wryly above my arm. 'I want to be in Venice before midnight.'

**The same day, 22:16**

**The Paris-Venice flight**

**Still above France**

Zhalia hadn't spoke a word since they left Notre Dame. She had stubbornly been ignoring every remarks and questions addressed to her. She had been quiet during the way to the airport and hadn't let them drag her into the talk when they came abroad. She had taken a seat apart from the rest, most distant she could have chosen, showing them trenchantly that she had had enough of them. She had been sitting in the same position for one and half an hour, with her elbows leaning over the window frame and her eyes fixed on the layer of dark clouds.

The kids hadn't paid much attention to her behavior. Sophie even seemed content with how things had turned out. The victory, which she, in her opinion, gained over Zhalia, had disposed her more kindly towards the rest of the world. She was attentively listening to Lok's story about the researcher's corpses found in the underground and patiently answered his questions about the French Revolution. Cherit's companionship had fallen to Dante. Given that they were almost alone abroad, excluding few sleeping passengers, the gargoyle could have left Lok's bag; now he sat on the seat with his head leaning on his paws and also observed agent Moon. Similarly to her, he didn't have the happiest face.

'Fancy a snack, Cherit?', Dante reeled up to him gently; he decided to cheer up at least one depressed comrade. 'I've left a cookie from the supper, especially for you.'

'Thank you', the little fellow muttered bleakly, 'but I don't have an appetite.'

'What are you worried about?', Vale asked. Cherit refusing a meal was such a rare phenomenon that it had to have a serious reason.

'I have a feeling that Zhalia is still angry with me for this incident with a trap', he confessed cheerlessly. 'I've been trying to apologize, but she just turned me away. She's really annoyed.'

'Don't worry', he comforted him. 'That's not because of you. She had a tough day. Let her cool a bit.'

The Titan nodded, but didn't seem convinced. Dante was silent for some time. He also had a hunch that something bothers Zhalia, he just didn't know what exactly was that. Did Sophie's remarks add insult to the injury? He seriously doubted it. Until now, she had been taking them haughtily and hit back. However, she apparently struggled with something. She hadn't spoken even to him, though not so long ago they were joking like usual. Had she guessed that he put her to the test in the catacombs, entrusting the ring of Arc to her, and she resented him?

He moved anxiously. He didn't feel good with what he'd done either. He tried to explain to himself that it was for the mission's sake, but… in reality, he had just wanted to silence the doubts aroused by Sophie's remarks and Zhalia's strange actions. He also noticed her peculiar changeability – one second she had been completely loose and chattered with him like an old acquaintance, the moment after she had been tensing and repulsed him even with her stare. He didn't understand it and that's why disturbing thoughts were created in his mind. They pushed him into putting her into the risky test… which she had passed with flying colors, causing him to feel ashamed of his previous suspicions.

However, he still didn't feel completely calm. Some kind of anxiety couldn't have been erased; it was as distinct and noticeable as the trace of Gareon's teeth on his hand.

He hesitated, peeled his eyes off the red semicircle, then turned to the gargoyle again.

'Cherit', he began. 'Could you give me an answer to one question?'

'I can't promise…', the small fellow responded tentatively, raising his little nut and looking at him enquiringly with his eyes as big as table tennis balls. 'But I'll try.'

Vale knew it would be neither easy nor pleasant. But the answer niggled him, so he braced himself and threw quickly:

'What do you think about Zhalia?'

Cherit blinked few times, as if he didn't anticipated such an issue. He stared at Vale, waiting for him to take the question back, laugh it off, waving his hand and telling him to forget that. But he didn't do that, so the Titan furrowed his brow, thinking intensively.

'She's a very efficient Seeker', he started cautiously. 'And she seems intelligent. Though a bit secretive as well. She's not the life and soul of the party, but she can listen. When she says something, it is usually a relevant remark… even if sore.'

Dante nodded. The description tallied with own opinion so far.

'However, her Gareon gives me creeps', the Titan murmured, moving his wings nervously. 'He's such an unpleasant monstrosity… You know it best.'

Vale smiled faintly, though he didn't feel any joy thinking about the next question.

'And what do you think about Sophie's fears? Do they seem justified for you? I mean… does Zhalia really act suspicious in your opinion?', he investigated.

'I don't know what you mean by '_suspicious_'', the gargoyle said honestly. 'For me, all the people behave strangely.'

Dante sighed; that was an apt remark. He couldn't demand from Cherit to judge Zhalia applying human standards.

'I'll try to express it in other way', he informed. 'Just… just warning you – it may sound a bit trenchantly.' Cherit nodded, ready for everything. 'If there was such a possibility… if you were like other Titans…', he fouled, completely not in his style, 'you get it?'

'If my power was contained in an amulet and could be released only by a Seeker, right?', the gargoyle guessed; his voice had become even higher, as if speaking about it was very stressful for him.

Dante nodded, not willing to develop that painful description. He broke the talk for a moment; did he really have to dwell upon the issue which was so hard for Cherit?

'Would you let Zhalia bond with you?', he threw quickly not to change his mind.

The gargoyle now deserved such a name, resembling his still, stone cousins from the temples. His eyes looked like two huge yellow bulbs. Very surprised, embarrassed and scared bulbs. Dante felt stupid.

'I'm sorry', he peeked aside and covered his face with the hand, angry with himself; curiosity killed the cat… 'Seekers can be so insensitive when they want to learn about something at any cost. Don't answer if you don't want to', he said quickly.

Cherit shook his head so hard his fluffy ears flapped.

'I'd like to', the confused Titan responded, leaning his nut on the paw, 'but… I don't quite know how to express it.'

'Just try it', Vale insisted.

'Let's put it that way… that Zhalia isn't the best kind of a Seeker for me', he said, choosing words cautiously.

'What do you mean by that?', the man got interested.

'What is your favorite ice cream flavor?', Cherit parried suddenly.

'Chocolate', Dante responded mechanically. 'But what does it have to do with…'

'And why?', the gargoyle didn't let him finish the sentence.

Dante thought about it, then shrugged.

'I don't know. I just like it, that's all.'

'That's exactly what I'm talking about', the gargoyle said with emphasis. 'Just like you can't say why you like this and not any other cream flavor the most, I can't tell you why I could bond with one Seeker and not another one. Though I haven't been bonded with any Seeker for such a long time that I forgot how it is like and what was important when making the choice, but…'

The Titan heaved a sigh.

'That's just the way it is, Dante. I can't explain that. I'm a Titan, it's simply natural for me. That's just as if you tried to explain to me how your emotions work. Or how you breathe. You simply know it. And I know that I couldn't form a bond with Zhalia.'

Dante sighed as well. He didn't await such an answer. But he asked for it himself.

'I'm sorry I can't help you', Cherit spoke when the silence had gotten heavy. He was apparently discomfited; he moved the tip of his tail left and right nervously.

'You said enough', Vale assured to fortify him. 'Thank you. Take it', he draw one _callison_ cookie from his pocket. 'To lighten your mood.'

Titan accepted the gift, but didn't sink his teeth into it immediately, like he used to do with all the sweets. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Dante.

'Now you seem worried as well', he stated sadly, proving that not every human behavior was a mystery for him.

Dante didn't say anything, turning to the window. In the windowpane, he saw his face contorted with anxiety; it was so strange for him 'cause he had been rarely getting so tense.

He twitched, lightly poked in the elbow.

'Here you go', Cherit was reaching a half of the cookie out to him, pouring the crumbs onto the upholstery. 'You also need some comfort.'

Dante forced a smile and stroked his head with his finger, taking the present with gratitude. He didn't really feel like eating it, but he didn't want to be rude towards Cherit again – he was aware how much it had cost the small buddy to part with a piece of the snack. The cookie was delicious as always, but nothing would taste good enough for Dante now. He swallowed it, though, trying to overcome the bitterness in his throat when he observed a tip of dark-haired head and a bit of slim female back.

_What is wrong with you, Zhalia Moon?..._


	8. Chapter 8: Hot&Cold

Hi there! How are you doing?

Since my university term will start soon, I try to use the remaining spare time to write as much as I can. Don't be surprised if since Monday the updates won't be as fast. Don't worry, I'll do my best to keep this story going, as it's one of my favourite things to do, but... please, be patient and understading, OK? I promise you won't regret it!

A little less to answer than usually, but I'm glad I can respond to as much of comments :)  
- VVindlady: That's right, I'm not only going to throw the fun parts into it. When I had to choose the tags, I chose 'Romance' and 'Humour', because it suited best, but I also wanted to add 'Adventure' and 'Tragedy' so badly, and many more tags! Hard luck I couldn't. I like switching the point of view from Zhalia to Dante. His way of thinking and speaking isn't as fierce and harsh as hers, and that's what makes his descriptions interesting and refreshing after a whole bunch of cursing and scolding ^^ I want to show the differences between them and what Dante notices in Zhalia - maybe not the things she thinks he does, but other ones...  
- Kimberly: Oh weeeell, you got me ^^ Yeah, it means something. Everyone knows they do have a thing for each other (in the whole series, 'cause in my fic it's not so obvious yet) ;) So, they will have some closer time sooner or later. But I won't spill the beans to you ^^ I hope I will portray it naturally.  
- Jess: I adore Gareon *.* (Though not after Powerbonding, he looked better as a small gecko) And I think he doesn't like that Zhalia pays so much attention to Dante. After all, it's him who had always been by her side, not Vale. And now he feels neglected. And seeing that Zhalia also teases Dante makes him feel more confident and protect his ground ;) As for the comic: I happen to know a few chapters, but not much. They are hard to find now, most of the translations got deleted. I simply fell in love with Ryder's design. I adore interesting characters. That's right, Ryder is Zhalia's ex-'boyfriend' from the comic. Though I don't know much about him, I'm going to write about him as well, probably changing his personality a bit to fit my fanfic. I think some of you would dislike him due to his influence over Zhalia and the mess he'll cause during one of the most important moments in her life... But he'll also be helpful. I won't say anything more for now, OK? ;)

Not the best chapter I wrote, but I'm not so fond of this episode. Too much Ymir and stuff. But Monty appears, alright! My next favourite hero. And I quite like the way Zhalia's talk with Klaus turned out ^^ I probably have a warped mind as well... Sorry for the whole period part, I couldn't resist!

When I finish the Hammer of Thor part, the more interesting eps will start. The ninth one is a pretty good material ^^ The title of this ep was intended to describe Zhalia's varying attitude (due to her personality and the raging hormones ;P), as well as the ever-changing atmosphere between her and Dante. You know, one moment she scolds him, the other one she praises him.

And... notice that they reach the temple of Thor on Thursday - the name of that day is delivered from Thor himself ;)

Enjoy! ;)

* * *

**22th June 2009, Monday, 16:13**

**Dante's House**

**Venice, Italy**

Dante thought that during the whole week, his anxiety would manage to wane, drown by the pressure of everyday duties. As if out of spite, no one had reported any suspicious case to the local detective. He should be happy that the crime rate was decreasing, but there had been times he would have caused a commotion on his own just to find himself any occupation. The Huntik Foundation also was staying silent. Indeed, sometimes someone had sent him a document to check or asked for his advice during solving some problem, but in fact, it had been taking him five minutes at most. The rest of the days had been dragging unrelentingly. Some other time he would be glad that he had had so much time for his hobbies, but now even they couldn't have filled his afternoons.

However, there were people who tried to help him in it. Since the holiday had started, he almost couldn't rid himself of Lok and Sophie. The kids, having plenty of spare time now, judged that it should be used for Seeker training. And the gym, of course, was placed in their teacher's home.

'OK, one more time', Lok decided after cautiously reading a well-worn scroll again. 'I think I'm getting a hang of this… Ready?', he asked Sophie.

'Give it your best shot, superstar!', she encouraged him, putting both hands on her hips.

'I'm about to light up your life with… Boltflare!', he shouted, sending the spell at the girl.

'Honorguard!', she shielded herself with ease, preventing the charm from hitting her. 'Your aim is improving, but it's still a bit weak if you ask me…', she stated patronizingly.

'Weak?!', he bridled. 'What're you talking about weak?! Did that look weak to you, Cherit?', he addressed the Titan observing them.

'Don't worry, Lok', Cherit avoided the unambiguous answer. 'You're doing fine… just keep working!'

'But I've been working!', Lok spread his arms helplessly, lowering his head with resignation, then embracing it in a frustrated manner. 'Man, what is wrong with me?!', angrier he was getting, lighter the flames licking his fingers were. 'I can't even use Boltflare!'

The joint sparkles flew from his hand and whizzed to Dante. He dodged in time; the back of his neck was brushed by a warm gust. The sphere of light flew through the room, bounced against the walls and dashed into the next one, where the sounds of falling stuff came from.

Dante threw Lok a reproachful glare when a lone dumbbell rolled out to the hall sadly.

'Oh… oops', Lambert only choked out, hunching his shoulders apologetically.

'Outta, boy killer', Sophie commented acrimoniously. 'We're all set if a deadly Titan disguises itself as Dante's hair!'

'That… could happen', the boy defended himself weakly. 'Alright', he gave up. 'Let's go practice upstairs.'

Dante held back a sigh. He wondered how his house would look like after an invasion of two completely incompetent Seekers. Shame he couldn't send them to the backyard… His neighbors would order exorcisms for sure, seeing the spells bouncing against the wall. And their children would love to have a flying gargoyle mascot.

His thoughts were interrupted by an importunate beep. The kids turned back, curious. Dante peeked at the green diode next to the LCD screen.

'It's probably Guggenheim', he guessed, answering the call.

'_Hello everyone!', _the Foundation chef started energetically, sitting at the desk and sipping from a steaming mug against the background of short videos showing a raging blizzard. '_I trust you're enjoying the afternoon. How does the trip to the wild of Scandinavia sound, Iceland, I should say?_', he reeled up as if they discussed going out for some coffee.

'Sounds cool', Dante joked in the similar careless tune. At last, a mission suitable for his abilities! He could just be happy about it. 'What's there?'

Guggenheim smiled lightly; his friend's reaction didn't let him down at all.

'_Mission: The Hammer Of Thor'_, he announced. '_Reach Thor's temple; retrieve the hammer Mjolnir._'

'I'll see what I can do', Dante responded without hesitation, excited at a mere thought of the challenge awaiting him.

'_Well, that's everything'_, the fair-haired Swiss said. '_Good luck all, travel safe… and pack warm!_'

He disconnected immediately.

'Seekers, we have a mission', Dante threw, already set solely on the task. He could indulge himself every day, but when a new mystery appeared on the horizon, his senses sharpened and focused on discovering it, not allowing themselves to digress.

'He didn't give us much to go on', Lok remarked, observing how his teacher had come to one of the cabinets and pulled out the drawer. 'Where're we supposed to start?'

Oh right. Perhaps he overdid accustoming them to the fact that they had been spoon-fed with the clues; now, not getting a concrete plan of operation, they were confused. It was the right time to change the tactics.

'We'll start at the beginning', he responded easily, pressing the button on the drawer. The second bottom was uncovered, revealing equal rows of amulets laying there. From all of them, Dante infallibly chose the one he needed. 'With a little research', he specified, examining the amulet in the light, then hiding it in his pocket. 'We'll leave for London in the morning to meet an old friend. I have a hunch this mission… is going to get complicated', he didn't take them for a ride.

The kids exchanged stares; that announcement didn't dispose them optimistically. Dante held back a smirk. He himself didn't feel any nervousness, just excitement. He couldn't stand idleness, the week-lasting break had already taken its toll on him.

The worst part of the task seemed to be the meeting with 'an old friend'…

**24****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 17:01**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

The London escapade was a snap comparing to the blizzard which had hemmed them in far away from any human creations, slowing their march and finally forcing them to set a camp in the valley covered by a coniferous forest. Dante wasn't going to risk snow bounding and freezing in effect for the sake of the mission. The delay was imminent, the weather conditions couldn't be passed nor jumped over. Luckily, being a Seekers required also developing some patience. He had plenty of it. The sole fact that he had been standing Lok's whining for so long did his credit.

'How long can it last?', the boy wondered, listening to the howl of the wind hitting their tent.

'Few hours or few days', Dante spoke truthfully.

'Few days?!', Lambert moaned. 'What're we supposed to do here for few days?! I hadn't even taken my Game Boy with me… The cell battery won't handle playing Snake for so long.'

'And that's how we learnt why you're usually unavailable when we call you', Sophie murmured, reading a thick volume by the flashlight. 'You waste energy for nonsenses.'

Dante could say the same thing about her; starting an argument didn't bring anything, only spoiled the atmosphere. He felt tired of just listening to their quarrels. He'd preferably leave them for a while and go outside, but the snowstorm prevented him from doing so. He realized again that he had gotten himself in a very difficult situation. Traveling with two immature fifteen-years-olds involved with isolation. What could he talk to them about, of course, apart from current matters? He felt like an alien, unrelated to teenage topics, and even Cherit's presence lightened his mood only a bit. He started to understand how hard for it was for the Titan: being surrounded by incomprehensible humans…

He sighed and to make himself busy, he drew out the holotome. He wrote a short message to Guggenheim, summarizing their progress and explaining the delay. He looked through the data sent by his friend, but they didn't bring much more than advices from Tersly, the London researcher they had asked for consultations about the Norse mythology. Eventually, he ran out of ideas to kill time. He started to rummage through the files thoughtlessly, ordering them and deleting those which seemed unnecessary for him.

Accidentally, he came across one entitled with a row of numbers. He rarely used such naming, thus he looked into it out of curiosity. The document opened. Almost at the top of it, a picture popped out. The dark-haired girl with slim face and harmonious features looked at him from the photo with her serious hazel eyes. The eyes which were sparkling with amusement each time their owner had been teasing him. Or pierced right through him when he had been threading on her corns.

Zhalia hadn't been calling for a week already. He thought about what she was doing now. Where could she be? In Venice? During last week, he hadn't bumped into her even once, but it was a big city, so he shouldn't be surprised. Besides, she could have been long gone. He wondered if she had gotten any new mission… and why, if he had been sharing with her so willingly, she hadn't let them know about it.

Well, he probably didn't have to ask. Perhaps she didn't want to see Sophie again. He understood it somehow. He also had to stand the certain crosspatch's pile of harsh remarks. Which he actually missed now. After all, no matter how Zhalia had been cutting him on to the quick, he had never been feeling so offended to be angry with her for too long, on the contrary, he enjoyed that bantering. He liked a healthy dose of sparring. Not only physical.

Or maybe she was still sulking about that ring trial? He wouldn't be surprised. He'd also be angry if someone had treated him like a guinea pig, which could be experimented on freely. She said her goodbye to him so coldly after the mission in Paris… As if she had really been offended. Which probably meant that she wouldn't contact him first. Her ambition wouldn't allow her to do so. Zhalia was proud; she had proved it many times. He noticed.

He also had his sense of dignity. But his honor didn't demand sticking to his opinion stubbornly and stating that he was the only one right. Thus, after a moment of thinking, he drew out his phone and started to wonder what he should write.

**The same day, 17:18**

**Al Ponte Antico Hotel**

**Venice, Italy **

'_What is the meaning of this?!_'

I pull my phone away from my ear, otherwise Klaus' yell will tear my eardrums apart.

'_What do you mean saying that you need more time?!', _he continues, enraged. '_You had plenty of it! I am not asking you to construct a space shuttle, only to seduce Dante Vale!'_

'Are you expecting me to do it in just two weeks?', I throw mockingly, watching my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

'_With your apparition and personality, two days should be enough!_', he gets sore.

'To get him into bed, two minutes would do just fine', I judge ironically, 'but that's not everything that matters for us, right? He's not supposed to do me and forget about it. He has to beg for more. And he won't do that if I surrender to him so willingly. The initiative has to come out from him. Understand?'

'_You have not paid attention to it until now'_, he growls, still not convinced.

'Those ones were just mere pawns', I explain patiently, not losing control. 'Useful, but not so much. We have never been hunting such a prey.'

'_That is why making it quick is even more important now… capturing him is crucial for the whole Organization. The Professor counts on us, Zhalia_', he reminds me strictly.

'I do what I can do, Klaus', I assure him and I'm not lying; even now I'm applying myself to the mission, plucking my eyebrows meticulously. What? My appearance means a lot. I can't neglect it.

'_Then do much more. I think I do not have to suggest you anything. It is you who is… a woman'_, he pronounces it like some kind of a curse. Apparently, he has troubles accepting the fact that he's not talking with an android, which can be perfectly programmed. I've always known that he regards the fair sex as creatures from the other planet, whom logic fails to decipher. They don't need to be understood; one should just let them do what they want as long as they fulfill their tasks. And if not, direct them back to the right track. By force.

'Yeeeah, I'm feeling it painfully right now', I murmur, struggling with exceptionally stubborn hair and referring to the other female problem. 'Like every month, though.'

I almost see Klaus' gutted face; although he's a biologist, he hasn't accepted yet that women menstruate. He pushes such a thought away like something unnatural and execrable. OK, maybe it's not the most pleasant thing, but I wouldn't create a taboo out of it. We, who suffer such tortures every few weeks, aren't afraid of speaking about it somehow, however, most men panics at a mere mention about a period. And that's us called the weaker sex? Kheh.

'_I hope you do not treat him to such tales_', he throws wryly. '_No one is interested in it. You have to act professionally regardless of the changes occurring in your organism._'

'Yeah, yeah', I turn him away, biting my lip when I pull out three hairs at once. Ouch. 'I'm so damn professional. Like a real courtesan. But, you know, in that state I can't do much about pleasing Mister Vale. Not every warrior likes to have blood on his sword, if you get what I'm talking about…'

'_Enough already!_', he chides me, and I put effort in holding back a giggle, hearing disgust in his voice. 'Just do what you have to do, I do not care how…'

A short beep drowns his grunting for a moment. I peek at the display and I notice a small envelope on the top.

'Listen, I've got a message', I interrupt him. 'I'll receive it and call you back, alright?'

'_Just make it quick_', he orders sharply.

I disconnect. The screen displays an announcement: _New message from: Dante Vale._

So, Klaus'll be happy! I click the _Show _button without hesitation. The message must be quite long, as it opens slowly. Finally I get the access to see it and read it attentively.

_Good evening, Zhalia. _(Oh, how official. Good evening, Dante, PhD.) _You possibly have enough of cooperation with our team _(such an apt observation, what a perceptive guy), _but still_, _I'll try to present a certain proposition to you. _('_Come to my flat wearing only a lacy bodice'_… Oh no, I've got a warped mind indeed!)_ We're actually in the heart of the Icelandic back and beyond, chilled to the bone after a march through treacherous mountain passages and bored unrelentingly due to the dragging blizzard. _(In such conditions, the bodice is out of question.) _How about risking a meeting with us in such a nice winter scenery? I honestly recommend it. We're planning even more attractions for tomorrow – we'll search for a temple lost among the glaciers and try to retrieve the hammer of Thor hidden there. And if we succeed, I promise to think about making a snowman commemorating this event. _(I smirk lightly. Who would accuse you of having such a sense of humor.) _Will you honor us with showing your face wrapped in a dozen scarves (which would be inevitable given the frost)? I enclose some GPS particulars, in case you decide to come (which I really count on). I send you my warmest wishes despite having my fingers coming off, and I'm looking forward to your response. Dante_

I didn't expect such an epistle from a guy who usually uses short, concise sentences and concrete orders. I have to admit, it turned out pretty well, though. I guess names really contain certain magic. He'd rather not write the second _Divine Comedy, _but he's quite good at concocting witty texts.

I call Klaus back.

'_Who was that?_', he asks impatiently.

'Him', I respond laconically. 'He wants me in his team again.'

'_Brilliant!_', he states, very content. '_Of course you will agree?_'

I don't have a slightest itch to freeze like an icicle among lifeless vast areas of whiteness, trembling despite constricting, heavy clothes, abiding the blonde brat, squealing gargoyle, stuck-up princess and mister genius. However, if I refused, Klaus would rip my head off. I heave a sigh.

'Book me a ticket to Iceland to let me pack in peace', I respond reluctantly.

I imagine how his wizened face beams.

'_Good girl', _he praises me with a rare fondness, which makes me smile lightly almost without knowing this.

It was worth it.

**The same day, 17:31**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

The phone beeped quietly, attracting the whole team's attention. Cherit squealed when the vibration tickled the tip of his tail, Lok peeked at the flashing cell without special interest, Sophie raised her sight from above the book. Dante covered the screen with his hand before anyone of them had read the sender's name. He opened the message quickly.

_I see that you took to heart my remark about sharing the missions! Such an honor that the top Huntik operative listens to my suggestions… I guess I can't say no to such a superstar, right? Stay where you are until the morning. I'll try to find you. Zhalia_

_P.S. Bring you some drawers?_

'Who's that?', Sophie got interested and Dante had just realized that he had been smiling to himself.

'The Foundation', he said, trying to convince himself that he wasn't sidestepping. After all, Zhalia was a Huntik operative, wasn't she? And Sophie hadn't have to bristle at the thought of meeting her rival yet. All in good time. Let her have… a surprise.

'Any good news?'

'Better than I expected', he responded evasively. In fact he didn't think that Zhalia would agree so quickly. He had been rather preparing for a longer discussion. Perhaps her anger had worn off. Or she wanted to pummel him in concert, and those thrust in the message had been just a foretaste of tantrums awaiting him. Nevermind.

'You're being very secretive', the girl remarked.

He didn't respond, just covered himself with the sleeping bag and zipped it. He accredited that he deserved some rest after the whole day of hardships. And now he could breathe a sigh of relief.

'Wake me up if something happens', he reserved and finally closed his eyes, calmer. He put the phone nearby. Just in case.

**The same day, 23:16**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

I'm starting to regret that I didn't delete that message without reading it. Or that the network didn't fail then. Or that the phone didn't fall down, crushing into pieces… Oh, nevermind, it's done and dusted. I flew to Iceland.

I've been fighting my way through the snow wasteland for almost an hour, looking out for the forest Dante described in case the GPS failed. And it did. Now I rely mostly on my instinct and few useful location spells which told me that the objective is nearby. But I somehow can't reach it, though I'm doing my best. The task is hampered due to the thick layer of fresh snow, in which I sink up my knees. Melting my way through with Boltflare had worked for some time, but I had been losing my body heat faster, and it's necessary in the cold climate.

O-ho, I start to recognize the environment somehow. Is there a valley? There is. A forest around? You bet. And it even appears that I see smoke and the firelight. Oh, great, my boots started to get wet. I come down, paying attention not to slip.

I can put those efforts to my ass. Suddenly I hit the frozen ground with my bottom, prostrated. I roll down the rise, entwined with something big and awkward, hitting the boughs and stones hidden under the snow. I close my lids and clench my teeth, feeling every ground warping on my own skin. Finally I land on my back, crushed by quite a weigh, I hiss with pain. When I open my eyes, at first I see just a pair of blue eyes and a red woolen cap before me. Then I manage to connect them with the rest of the person and I recognize Lok, goggling at me in disbelief.

'Don't you have someone your own age you can play with?!', I chide him sharply, not handling the greetings with kid gloves.

'Zhalia!', he shouts in shock. 'What're you doing here?!'

'You mean besides being attacked by pint-sized Seekers like you?', I growl, feeling that my coat is soaking up water from the melted snow. 'Dante asked me to come!'

'Oh, yeah', he considers it, uneasy. He finally gets that the position in which he's crushing me with his whole body isn't the most comfortable for me. He blushes, I don't know why, from cold or embarrassment that he was laying on a woman in a very suggestive way, probably the first time in his life? 'Here', he reaches his hand out to me, helping me stand. 'Sorry about that. We thought someone was out here. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time…', he flounders, still disconcerted.

'Yeah, I know', I interrupt that babble, brushing off the snow. 'Where's Dante? Just tell him I'm here', I insist, fixing furry hat. I'll look gorgeous for sure, wet, shabby and pissed off. Really, Dante'll be struck dead seeing me.

'Zhalia!' He chooses a great moment to arrive; I've just thought about him and he's already here. His voice sounds joyful. The brats probably got on his nerves if he's happy to see me… 'Glad to see you've made it OK.'

'Oh, you're lucky I'm good with location spells, otherwise I would've turn back a long time ago', I grunt; he could know that I wasn't flying here on my wings of admiration towards him, just that I had to put some effort into it.

'Well, it's never too late', Sophie, Dante's inseparable piece of equipment, speaks up. Does she really have to follow him like a shadow? I wonder if she lets him piss in peace or if she spies on him even then.

I throw her a flaunting stare. Oh, what a lovely cap. Perhaps she wore it in kindergarten too. And these tassels, really cute.

'Clever', I respond shortly and coldly. 'So, let me guess: you haven't located the temple yet?', I throw disdainfully, coming to the fire 'cause I have a feeling that they won't think about inviting me there.

'Good guess', Dante admits, following me.

'We were heading in the right direction…', Lok tries to safe their honor. 'That is, before the blizzard.'

'Trust me, it could've been a lot worse', I assure him pointedly, kneeling next to the fire. Oh, how nice, I've already thought that my nose would come off. 'Better a blizzard than the Guardians.'

'The Guardians? Who are they?', the boy gets curious.

'So, you've heard of them too?', Dante murmurs, not so pleased. Apparently, he wished that it was just him hearing a far-fetched rumour. Now he has to abandon that hope.

'What are you two talking about?', confused Sophie asks.

'They don't know?' Oh, I'm so sorry that the little snot doesn't have a slightest idea the first time in her life. 'Word has it there's an ancient cult called the Guardians of Thor', I explain, content that they catch my every word greedily. At last I'm on the top! 'They've been in existence for thousands of years, preserving the ways of the Norse gods.'

'Something tells me they protect temples and artifacts…', Lok guesses.

'That's not the best part, junior', I throw to him patronizingly. 'The Organization infiltrated their little group completely, so you see, by now they know that we're coming. And they're not giving in without a fight…', I add portentously, looking into the flickering flames.

'So that's good that you arrived', the boy remarks. 'The more of us, the better.'

'Since you're so happy with seeing Zhalia, you'll give her your place in the tent', Sophie taunts him waspishly. 'All of us won't fit in.'

'It may not be comfortable, but we will manage somehow', Dante calms her down.

'At least it'll be warmer', Cherit admits.

'Especially if we cuddle', I add mockingly; Lok reddens. What a sweet, innocent boy. Relax, I didn't mean you in particular. I had enough of your clumsy caresses for today; my spine still aches. 'And it's not Lok who takes up the most of room.'

'Do you want to kick Dante out?', Sophie bridles.

'I meant you', I burst out.

'Me?', she chokes out in surprise.

'Not Cherit for sure. You've put on some flesh recently. Or maybe that's just the coat which makes you look fat.' Take that for commenting on my nubile silhouette.

I observe with pleasure how the girl clenches her hands, ready to deny it in words and actions. I imagine clouds of smoke coming out from her ears.

'We won't throw anyone away', Dante placates, that born mediator. 'There'll be room enough for everyone. Come on, tomorrow we will have to get up early. By '_early_' I don't mean twelve o'clock, just the dawn', he warns mainly Lok, heading to the tent.

'And just a year ago I had normal holidays…', the boy begins the stream of complaints, following the leader.

Lucky you. Some people can't even dream about such a luxury.

**25****th**** July 2009, Thursday, 0:17**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

My first night with Dante.

Sounds exciting? Not quite. The presence of the kids and the Titan effectively prevents me from any spicy moves. Additionally, I'm separated from Dante by the other two Seekers. Even if I wanted, I wouldn't break through that thick wall, created mainly due to Sophie's drive. She'll do anything to keep me away from Vale. Even if it means abiding Lok's wriggling and snoring.

I observe Dante above the sleeping girl's arm. His back is turned to me. It's true he takes up the most room. Such a big lad. And he's got such hunk shoulders. Possibly he pumps iron to keep in shape in await for new missions. I can't say – I fancy muscular guys. It's pleasant to know that I won't be pawed by some slobbish, dowdy sleazoid. If he just shove that beard of his…

'Zhalia...? Are you asleep…?'

I twitch lightly, hearing his quiet, yet still deep voice, cutting into my thoughts.

'No', I respond in a whisper. 'Lok snores like a boar. The blizzard is a snap compared to him.'

'Maybe someday he'll go through it', he voices his hope. 'Over time, a Seeker learns how to control his body even during sleep.'

'Yeah, I know.' I remark that I'm a Seeker too… He could memorize that once and for all and stop talking with me as if I was a newbie. 'You wanted something or just sought a comrade in insomnia?', I ask outright.

'I wanted to thank you', he responds frankly, trying to turn to me. He realizes that Cherit, hibernated and bundled, lays on his arm; not wanting to disturb him, he gives up and I still talk with his back. 'Considering all those unpleasant things our companionship exposes you to, you didn't really have to agree…'

'Your dramatic appeal convinced me', I smile lightly. 'But I didn't bring the drawers. I don't know what is your favorite type. And size.'

'Maybe that's better', he throws in a merrier voice. 'Later you'd send this info to the Foundation colleagues and then I wouldn't get rid of the rumors about what kind of fancy underwear I have.'

'That's the celebrities' life', I mock him, but this remark is spoiled by my surreptitious yawn.

'I was just kidding', he assures me. 'If I really cared, I should have just gone insane. I simply do my stuff.'

'And that's probably what makes everyone wired', I remark, pricking my ears. 'That nothing can be pulled out of you. Everyone is excited over mysteries, not only Seekers. If you let some of your secrets slip out, you probably wouldn't have been arousing such a sensation…', I add meaningfully, trying to persuade him to confidence.

He is silent for a moment.

'Yes', he says eventually. 'Perhaps. We should probably just try to sleep now', he states in a completely different, more condescending voice. What happened that he suddenly changes the topic? Did I cross the border between a non-committal chatter and intrusive trespassing his privacy too hastily?

'Oh, of course', I murmur, angry with myself. That's all Klaus' fault, he told me to turn up the tempo. 'So… goodnight, Dante.'

'Goodnight, Zhalia', he responds, now in a more gentle tune. 'Sleep well.'

I notice Sophie's fluttering lids with the corner of my eye. So she eavesdropped, just pretending to be asleep. I realize now how it is not to stalk, but TO BE STALKED…

And actually I'm starting to feel sorry for Dante that he bumped into even more obstinate spy. I'm not done with him yet…

**The same day, 10:15**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

'Watch your step', Dante warns us. 'One slip and you'll end up in the cracks.'

Tell me about it. I've trying not to twist my ankle for three hours, going through the ice shards.

'How far have we gone, anyway?', Lok asks, fixing his backpack. From all of us, he handles the marching worst.

'Three miles, maybe more', Dante estimates, observing the map on the holotome.

'This snow has already ruined my new boots', I remark mockingly. 'Is there any reason why we're not just using powers to get around?'

'Dante told us to conserve our powers', Sophie says calmly.

Alright, it explains everything. The master says, the minions do. I roll my eyes and at that moment I notice that the sky has gone darker. Those clouds gather so suddenly, pouring snow like sugar powder… I'm not the only one to note that.

'Exactly what spell are you using, anyway?', Sophie investigates.

If something bad happens, does it always have to be my fault?!

'This isn't me', I respond, still looking at the sky. Then I lower my eyes to my boots, and not because they're in a deplorable condition. It's just that the earth is shaking under my feet…

'Then, what's going on?!', the girl panics, sensing the repeating pulsation of the ground.

'Something's coming!', Dante guesses. 'Stay on your guard, be ready for anything!'

Does 'anything' have to be ten meters tall, characterized by huge dimensions and emerging from the snow storm disturbingly?!

'Does that count?!', Lok asks, paralyzed.

'A frost giant!', Sophie recognizes. 'I read about them last night! It must've been summoned by the Guardians!'

'I was afraid of this…', Dante strikes the holotome keys fast. 'It's the Titan Ymir! He can creat an army of ice creatures to fight by his side!'

And those are the attractions you wrote me about?!

'What's the plan?', Lok insists, trying to calm down.

'I'll hit him with the frontal attack', of course, Superman, 'everyone else, spread out here, here and here', he points out three places on the holotome map. 'See if you can distract him. Lok, follow his footprints back where he came from, over here', he shows him the place hidden behind a hill.

'Oh man…', Lambert isn't so happy about getting such a responsible task, but there's no time to protest, 'cause the colossus is right ahead. 'That's not look friendly!'

'There's a reason for that – he isn't!', I throw furiously.

'Get moving!', Dante rushes us, them aims at Ymir to buy us some time. 'Touchram!'

The spell hits Ymir's face, but it doesn't give any effect apart from enraging him.

'It didn't work!', Lok remarks brilliantly, 'he's too strong!'

'Can be!', Dante's apparently surprised by the failure. 'Everyone, run!'

We doesn't have to be told twice. I don't have a fancy to know the ice giant better, even if I said that I like bruisers…

'Lok, quickly!', Dante shouts, seeing that Lambert falls behind. 'Come on!', he stops; I don't know what it would do if the Titan finishes them both off, but probably he thinks that dying in company would cheer Lok up!

'Hyperstride!', Lok tries to use powers to help himself escape, but with his abilities it won't do much.

'Bristlevine!' It's obvious who saves the day. Dante's spell makes some spiky tentacles come out from the frozen ground and entwine the Titan's thick legs. Lok with a wave of snow lands few meters away, near Vale, when the giant reels and falls down with a roar.

'Hurry, this way!' Dante senses the opportunity and leads us the way from where the giant came. He's already running there.

'What are you doing?!', I burst out feverishly, following him only because I don't want to stay alone with the enraged Titan. 'What if there're more like him?!', '_you thoughtless idiot!', _I add only in mind to relieve myself.

'We'll take the chance!', he shouts back. 'We need to follow his tracks back to the temple before the snow buries them!'

Doesn't he really have any self-preservation instinct?! Does he always have to stick his neck out just not to ruin his reputation?! I know that you have to do your best if you can, but do you really have to risk your life in the face of an obvious danger?!

'Hurry!', Sophie rushes us, seeing the Titan getting up.

As if we weren't throwing our lungs out from effort!

Suddenly we all fall down like skittles, wiped away from the track with a gust of freezing wind. It turns out to be Ymir's puff. I call back a certain chewing gum ad in which a dude freezes the whole bus with his breath…

Eh, nevermind. That's not the best time for such comparisons. From the clouds of freezing steam around us, a bunch of angular ice creatures arise, waving their curved claws rapaciously. That's rather not a cheerful greeting…

'O-oh…', Lok utters. 'This does not look good…'

'Stay calm…', Dante warns us, observing the ugly mugs.

What, are you planning to befriend them?! Try if you want, but I'm not gonna reach my hands out to the monsters which are looking forward to gouge my eyes out… I appreciate having my limbs in one piece and stuff!

'OK, get ready', Dante finally realizes that there's only a fight left for us. Bravo. 'Come out, Caliban!'

'Emerge, Sabriel!'

'Now, Freelancer!'

'Gareon! Kilthane, quickly!'

The Titans come at the creatures, crushing them into pieces. Alright, that looks a bit better now! Not for long, though. After all, there's only a sprinkling of us, and them… a horde. They overwhelm our support like voracious locust.

'We need to hit them harder!', I judge when the monster flattened Kilthane down.

'I brought a Titan especially for this mission', Dante announces, uncovering an amulet strapped to his belt: spherical, gray and yellowish, resembling a porous, spotted stone with a blue shard of mica in the center. 'And the time to us it is now! Melt them, Ignatius!'

The piles of snow part when a silhouette of the Titan made of boiling magma emerges among them; the white fluff becomes just a puddle around thick paws. The burning golem spits a stream of lava to the creatures. They turn into a pond immediately. Ymir apparently doesn't like it; he comes to us in heavy steps.

'Lok, Sophie, trace its tracks back to the temple!', Dante commands, seeing the danger approaching us. 'We'll stay here and hold the line!'

'Got it!', Lok accepts and they both run away, sending the crusts of ice flying.

'Gareon, slow it down!', I order; if SOMEONE decided what I have to do instead of me, I have to keep my position.

'Raypulse!', Dante joins me.

Both those efforts go to waste; Ymir passes us by as if we were just importunate bugs not worth mashing.

'He doesn't care about us!', I point it to Dante. 'He's trying to keep the secret of the temple safe…', I finish more quietly, not having an audience anymore.

That idiot's just getting right under the Titan's feet! Ymir will crush him in no time! Dante shouts something and sticks to the giant's paw. Did he use Spidertouch?! But what for?! He suddenly had a fancy to ride a deadly Titan?! Is he already going through the midlife crisis that he seeks extreme vibes?!

Ymir still follows the kids, and just one of his steps is equal to few of their desperate leaps. I try to catch up with them, but I fall behind nevertheless. Even from such a distance I notice the danger, though – the brats are running right into the abyss! Luckily they stop on time, but now they're between wind and water. For a moment they just stand and do nothing. Are they nuts?! They are waiting for Ymir to cast them off himself or what?!

Suddenly they both raise their hands to attack.

'No!', I yell, but the roar of wind drowns my voice. 'Dante's up there!', I shout myself hoarse, in vain.

Ymir, hit right between his eyes, falters on the edge of the bluff. I raise my hand, I'll try to keep him up somehow, nevermind that he'll most likely seek revenge on us, I just can't let it happen that this imbecile, this stupid show-off, this hopeless lunatic gets crushed into a bloody pulp few hundreds of meters down…

Too late. Ymir's weigh tips and the colossus falls into the void… taking Dante with him.

No. No, no, no! It can't end up like this! Not now when I almost got him!

I run like crazy, wondering if I should at first watch his smashed corpse, choke the brats for their stupidity or prepare for the Professor's punishment when…

'What did I ever do to you guys…?', a dragged moan rings and something brownish emerges above the edge of the precipice.

'Dante! You OK!', Lok burst out with relief.

'Was there ever any doubt?', he murmurs mockingly, fixing his outfit.

I stop, panting hard. I rush like that, despite feeling like a holey hydrant thanks to my period, only to let him laugh the whole event off?!

'_Gareon, shoot him, 'cause I don't have enough strength_', I ask the Titan, hunching to my knees and trying to catch my breath. That's definitely not the best time for such efforts…

Gareon willingly prepares for fulfilling my order. KABOOOM! Wow, he really gave it his best shot. However, it turns out that it's not my little pet's merit. Even him curls from fear and doesn't try to play a dangerous monster seeing a rocks falling apart in the distance. I soothingly smooth his head and let him come back to the amulet. I watch alone how the ice crushes, revealing…

'The temple of Thor!', Lok says in awe.

'It's so… beautiful!', Sophie joins the whole oh-and-ah stuff.

'Well, now that we all agree how breathtaking it is…' I cut in, approaching the rest, 'does anyone have any idea how to, you know, get there?', I ironize.

'No problem, I'll fly over there with Kipperin', Lok responds.

'Wait a minute, I've read something…', Sophie interrupts. 'Something about a bridge!'

'Hold on, what about a bridge?', Dante investigates.

'I read that it connects the world of mortals to the realm of gods!', she explains patiently.

'It's a rainbow, right?', Lok guesses; well, well, so he does have some brains. 'They usually happen during a sunshower!'

'Right!', Sophie admits. 'A rainbow is formed when the sun hits droplets of moisture in the Earth's atmosphere! If we can only project the right conditions somehow…'

'Hey, guys, I have an idea!', Lok bursts in. 'Dante, can you bring out Ignatius?'

'It should be interesting. Let's see what you've got in mind', Vale smiles, fulfilling the request.

In the same time Lok summons Kipperin. The Titan hangs above him, ready to entangle him with his tentacles.

'Hold on', Lok asks him. 'Let's switch it up', he points at Ignatius. 'Ready?'

The Titan nods (interesting that it mimics human gestures…), then he entwines his limbs around the burning comrade.

'And they're off!', Lok commands.

We observe how Kipperin lifts Ignatius up to the sky when the other one spits out a stream of lava. After a moment, I feel the effect on my own skin – it's raining heavily. Oh, brilliant. The ruined boots aren't enough, now even my cap would look as if taken away from a dog's throat.

'Zhalia, if you'd be so kind', Dante turns to me.

Yeah, yeah. At your service…

'There's nothing my Strix can't put a hole in', I respond as much pride as my wet, flat and sticky strands let me keep. _And it concern also your empty nut, remember. _'Strix!'

The monstrous hornets get rid of the thick cloud layer in a blink; after their action the sky resembles a sieve; sunbeams shine through its meshes. In such a light it's clearly visible that my foundation got smeared due to all the water around… Great.

'Oh, I think it's working!', Cherit beams, seeing that the colours are starting to dance above the abyss; red, yellow, green, dark blue and purple lay next to each other in stripes, reaching to the temple.

'Wow!', Sophie whispers.

'That was incredible!', Lok joins in.

'Not to bad…', I state with acknowledgement. Who would have thought that the dimwit had gotten us out of troubles.

'The rainbow bridge! It's really there!', Cherit squeals in excitement. Maybe because he won't step on it.

'Alright, there's only one thing to do now', Dante cuts the raptures. 'Let's go!'

'Alright, temple of Thor, here we come!', Lok gets enthusiastic.

I'm more skeptical. You know, any sane man doesn't beam at the thought of crossing the abyss and standing on something which seems completely immaterial… But am I surrounded by normal people? I don't think so if they all willingly barge onto the bridge. Dante makes a first step without hesitation, then second… He doesn't fall down. Alright, now you convinced me. I'm going – and I hope that it doesn't work like Joan of Arc's crystal trap, otherwise we will all plummet, and I don't want to be surrounded by those fools even after death!

Something hits the back of my head. I'd accuse Sophie for that if she wasn't walking in front of me, admiring the views spreading from the bridge.

'What was that?...', I wonder quietly, fixing my tilted cap, and I get an answer at once; a big, clumsy bird dives right at my face. 'Dante!', I shout warningly, dodging the ice claws and… an axe which cuts the creature in half and gets struck in the glacier before us.

'Now that's what I call… _cutting in close_.'

We turn around, alarmed by the bird as well as by an unknown, deep bass. On the bridge with his legs spread stands… a colossus. No, luckily not Ymir, he's not pulled himself together yet. However, the stranger, for human measurements, can be considered a giant. He's approximately two meters tall, in addition his posture resembles a well-fed grizzly bear, he is also comparably shaggy. A luxuriant, dark beard covers half of his face with a prominent dwarf-like nose, the other half is shaded by bushy eyebrows. Thick, brown hair whirl on his head. The image is filled up by a ring in his ear and the second axe negligently leaning on his shoulder. For a moment I have a feeling that Thor himself came to greet us in his estates… until I realize that centuries ago people dressed in furs, not in waterproof coats.

'Montehue', Dante speaks up, a slight twitch crossing his face. 'What a surprise…'

Why do I have a hunch that he won't start jumping from joy soon?...


	9. Chapter 9: Winners And Losers

Hello everyone!

Such a busy day... But I've made it! I translated the chapter! And now I have an opportunity to respond to your comments - you know, I love it! ^^

- Jess: Yeah, and that's why Ryder will appear :D I like to mess the story up... and it's not like Zhalia and Dante hadn't had any love life before, right? Dante is well-liked by women and Zhalia's attractive. No wonder they are popular. Speaking of Ryder again, I must warn that this hero in my story may differ from the original one in the comic. But I hope it'll make him even more fascinating ;)

- Kimberly: maybe not a quickie ^^ Dante doesn't seem like a quickie type of a guy, at least not right from the start (maybe when he and his woman grow closer and know each other needs...). With Zhalia... it's a different story ;P Just kidding, she's so naughty on the surface, but... there're so many mysteries about her! Even her intimate life ;) No, I study Japanese. What made you think that I study English? :)

- VVindlady: Yeah, Dante was quite formal, 'cause he wanted to go well in Zhalia's eyes ^^ And I think that overusing a noble language in casual situations is funny sometimes ;) I'm so happy you guessed my intentions of Zhalia's chat with Klaus and that you liked their little fondness moment! *.* That's just what I meant! I will try to do my best describing the moment you've mentioned :) And... I made a LOTR surprise in this chapter again, I couldn't resist ^^ It just fitted!

- CindyKayla: sorry I didn't respond in the previous chapter, instead now I'll answer to two reviews at once :) I know Monty seems a bit... hm... annoying sometimes. But I still like his way of behaving and his Scottish accent :D Such a funny teddy bear. We've got something in common liking Gareon! And thanks for understanding my intentions with portraying the characters the way I do. I want Zhalia to change her mind later, and Dante to have an... unpleasant surprise. So they have to be different and to confront their views on life. The talk was short 'cause if I made it longer, it would take too much space in that quite longish chapter. But I'll make up for it in the future ;)

Guys, I really appreciate all the support I got from you. I love reading your comments. During last few days, they helped me carry on. When I read them and wrote this part, I forgot about my worries. My first university term starts in two days, so I'm a bit anxious if I do well and get used, and stuff like that... Yeah, that's the last chapter I updated before my studies will start. Now the chapters will take some more time to write. But I'm not abandoning my story! I promise to carry on. How could I leave it receiving such positive reactions and knowing that you wait for the next part? Please, cross your fingers for my next days. I'll really need your help.

Honestly, episodes 7&8 aren't my favourite, but I couldn't have skipped them, so much happens in them (Dante-Monty competition etc.). It gave me a reason to let Dante have more space, and it ended up in him taking over the most of the chapter ^^ I just thought that Zhalia shouldn't say too much about the rivalry, she doesn't really know much about it, as it's seen in her speeches (she regards it as jealousy and so on). So, it's your task to say who is the winner of this ep - Monty, for getting the hammer? Dante, for overcoming his ambition and receiving a nice surprise? Or maybe... Zhalia, for being so shrewd? Don't be angry with the cliffhanger! ;)

Enjoy and see you soon, I hope!

* * *

**25th June 2009, Thursday, 10:39**

**On the rainbow bridge**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

Dante would rather ride Ymir again than admit that Montehue's arrival didn't suit him at all. Who would have expected that among the snowy wasteland, away from any civilization, in a place where human foot rarely stepped, he would bump right into his greatest rival, who actually should be eating a high-calorie breakfast in rainy London?! There was no mistake – every detail perfectly suited the Seeker taking the second place in the Foundation's ranking, whom he had been trying to avoid so skillfully.

'Good to see ya, pal', the dumpy man spoke vigorously with his strong Scottish accent. Dante held back the comment that he wasn't so happy about it. 'Been looking for you and your friends all over this fiord here. Good that I wore my snow boots…', he looked at his well-shod feet.

'How did you find out about our mission?', Dante asked as kindly as he could, though he suspected the answer.

'My assistant happened to mention it', the giant responded, pulling aside and exposing Tersly, trembling from either cold or shock.

'He-he brought it out of me…', the skinny ginger in glasses defended himself, peeking at Dante apologetically. Vale pursed his lips. He had had a feeling that it would end like this.

'I'm sure he did', he murmured with almost impalpable mock; cowardly Tersly couldn't keep any secrets from his energetic employer. Perhaps just thinking about how Monty would react after hearing that he hid something from him made him so panicked that he preferred to free himself from the problem and tell about the mystery without any delay.

'Weeell, it looks like you and your friends here have found a magic temple', Montehue remarked, observing the building with pride, as if he had created it himself and now invited them as guests there. 'Must not have been easy. 'Course it would've taken me a lot less time…'

'I hate to interrupt', Dante denied himself, doing just so, 'but… we're surrounded by hostile snow golems…', he reminded meaningfully, pointing at the rapacious birds just waiting for their mistakes.

With one accord, the flock screeched and attacked.

'Spread out!', Dante shouted to his team.

'Run!', Montehue interrupted. 'I'll handle this!'

Dante grimaced. Montehue had to play first fiddle, like always. Unfortunately, he had to admit that just now, he suited it the best… His axes were cutting mercilessly, taking off another ice limb each time. Discontent with that observation, Vale toughened his fist with a spell and whacked the monster attacking him with all his strength. He realized with surprise that the bird had fallen into ice shards. Well, Monty's arrival had its advantages – Dante fought with doubled strength, not wanting to go badly comparing to his rival.

The team scattered, trying to defend themselves against the golems and not fall from the bridge at the same time. Tersly almost fainted from fright when two birds had caught him – luckily he had as much presence of mind remaining as to call Venadek. A small, agile Titan, who didn't really resembled any certain creature, and could pass as a wild mix of a bat, a lizard and a scorpion the most, handled the opponents with ease, slashing them with two razors which grew from his wrists instead of hands.

Lok and Cherit were running away from another birds. One of them opened his claws and aimed to catch the gargoyle. It turned out that the scarf Lok had tied caringly around his neck (despite that the little fellow couldn't feel cold) came in handy – the boy yanked it and pulled Cherit down, saving him from the aggressor's talons.

Nearby, the girls were fighting the rapacious birds with quick, accurate blows. Performing one of them, Zhalia got hit in the face by the wing and fell down moaning, lowering her guard. She was now an easy target. Dante rushed to her, but Monty was faster.

'No one beats a lady in my presence!', the giant shouted and crushed the golem with one cut, then threw Zhalia a short smile. She gave it back faintly, still contorted after the fall.

Dante felt a grimace crossing his face involuntarily. He yanked out the amulet.

'Ignatius, attack!', he yelled with fury.

The golem, filled with his negative emotions, spitted lava vehemently, melting a bunch of ice creatures. Dante observed with satisfaction how they fell onto the bridge as a rain of shiny droplets, creating puddles glistening in the sun.

Monty directed some more accurate blows before the horde decided to surrender. The burly Seeker observed the flock disappearing behind the peaks on the horizon.

'Well, all I can say is…', he began, straightening up and flinging the axe over his shoulder in a characteristic manner, 'good thing I was here.'

Dante turned his stare away and to cover his discontent, got busy with calling Ignatius back to the amulet. Monty's statement was still without a comment. He sighed quietly. As out of spite, they had left it to him.

'I really don't know what we would've done without you…', he murmured reluctantly, not looking at his rival.

'Ha, come on, Vale, I was just yanking your chin a little!', Montehue said jovially, saddening him even more with his patronizing voice.

'I don't mean to interrupt…', Lok spoke cautiously, 'but the temple is right over there…'

'Right', the satisfied Scottish admitted, putting his hands at the back. 'Now that we're all here, we're outta go grab that hammer, no?'

'After you, Monty', Dante threw ironically, showing him the way with exaggerated gesture.

'You're a prince!', the Seeker remarked, not feeling the mock in his voice. Vale smirked, not making him aware of his true intentions.

The team headed to the temple, being careful not to slip onto the melted remains of the golems. Zhalia paid the most attention to it; she had became convinced one time that the rainbow bridge wasn't as delicate and subtle in touch as it seemed. Especially when one hits it with the bottom.

'You OK?', Dante threw to her.

'Yeah, somehow', she responded negligibly, staring at Monty's back, then asked with some kind of reproof: 'Couldn't you equip yourself with such axes? It makes many things easier…'

Dante got stunned, his face fell completely. He barely noticed the ice shard on his path and didn't trip up. Zhalia just stared at him meaningfully in reply and then turned away. Dante couldn't believe what he had just seen and heard.

'Look!', Lok whispered sharply. 'Gandalf!'

A tall, sinewy old man with long white beard and the same moustaches was coming from the temple, covered in a black, trailing robe with a hood pulled onto the wrinkled forehead. He approached them in a slow, well-balanced pace, so they stopped in await.

'Youuu shall not paaass!', Lok murmured with a lowered voice, mimicking the famous line from _The Lord Of The Rings_, from the scene when the wizard barred Balrog the way.

'Lok, cut it already!', Sophie reproached him with a hiss.

'But he really looks like Gandalf!', the boy insisted.

'Rather like Saruman', Sophie denied.

The elder stopped few steps before them, his cloak flapped impressively, deepening the feeling that they had been transferred to the plan set of some fantasy movie.

'I see you've made it. We've been expecting you in our humble temple', the stranger spoke in a mysterious voice, which sounded both dignified and balefully, especially mixed with a malicious smirk playing on the man's mouth.

'We noticed', Dante threw ironically, making an allusion to the golems' attack.

'We were informed that you would be arriving soon in order to collect a certain… artifact', the Guardian added suggestively, examining them with his stare, as if he had been trying to check how much they knew. He eye-pierced Dante for the longest time. He handled that stare, opposing it with his own, which actually wasn't pleasant at all.

'That's right', he admitted laconically, now convinced that that talk was just a bunch of platitudes, which were supposed to put their vigilance to sleep. Who else but Organization could inform the Guardians?

For a moment, the Guardian just inspected their faces.

'This way, my friends', he said finally, inviting them to follow him with a gesture. There wasn't a slight of liking in his voice.

'You sure we should trust this guy?', Lok asked under his breath.

'No, I'm not', Zhalia murmured back.

'We can't get past that door…', Dante cut that discussion which could cause a quarrel too early. 'So if he lets us in, we're going to follow.'

'But once we're inside…', Lok tried to add something.

'We're better off', Montehue responded fatalistically, though he himself didn't seem scared at all, just the opposite thing. However, Tersly shivered like a leaf in the wind, mincing just behind him.

'Welcome to the temple of Thor', they heard.

They came to the shrine one by one, observed by the Guardian. When the heavy gates closed, there was a full-of-dust, yellowish semidarkness, mainly due to the walls made of light brown, ornamented rock. The massive blocks looked a bit primitive, however, the carvings covering them were made especially carefully; each depicted some item or scene from the Norse mythology, connected to Thor.

After the walk through the corridor, they stopped in a round chamber with a huge pillar in the center, supporting the ceiling stylized as a multi-pointed star. They were surrounded by a lot of tunnel mouths, not differing from the one they had come from.

'If you would be so kind as to wait here', the Guardian asked with a sophisticated politeness, though his timbre hadn't become even a bit more kind. 'My master will receive you in a moment.'

The Guardian left the room. It just confirmed Dante's fears. If the worshippers of Thor had given them an opportunity to explore the temple, it could have only meant that they wouldn't allow them to get out with the gained knowledge.

'Form a defensive perimeter', he threw firmly, stating that it was the right time to show who was the leader. Oddly enough, everyone listened to him without protest, surrounding him in a circle. Dante felt a bit better, knowing that the general rapture over Monty hadn't taken away his whole prestige. 'Holotome, build the map of the temple based on what we can see', he ordered to the device.

'_Scanning_', the female voice responded.

'Maybe he's OK', Lok started suddenly. 'I mean, he seems like he really wants to help us…'

'And maybe', Sophie spoke, mimicking his intonation, 'you're just glad to be out of the freezing cold…'

'If you think that anyone would just give up Thor's hammer, the power of Mjolnir, you're crazy', Zhalia joined in, subtle as always.

'Here's the situation', Dante showed them the created map, they gathered around him. 'There are two ways out. If they attack, we will break through here', he explained clearly to let everyone understand it. 'Lok and Sophie, cover our backs.'

'I'd rather improvise', Montehue chuckled, drawing out his two axes suggestively. Dante rolled his eyes. Showing off, like always.

'Apparently we overestimated your intelligence, Dante Vale!', a hoarse voice behind their backs spoke.

**The same day, 10:47**

**The temple of Thor**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland **

And, didn't I say that we will step into some shit?

The Guardian came back, but with support. He brought here similar dwarves in hoods and some fat baldie in sunglasses.

'This temple is controlled by the Organization!', the man announces, revealing his affiliation. I don't know this guy, we haven't had an opportunity to meet before. He probably doesn't know who I am either, so he won't go easy on me – if he wants to wipe off the team, he won't leave me out. Tough luck. However, DeFoe is in-the-know of the mystification and he still torments me when he only has a chance. This one here at least will have a justification why he tried to kick my ass. Maybe I'll take it into consideration someday when I'll be on the top, giving away privileges and attentions. I'll allow him to become my footstool.

'And you have just walked into your tomb…', he finishes, addressing Dante. Woaahahaha, stop or I'll shit my pants from fear. Really, an atmosphere like from some fear chamber in a funfair. Just hang a stuffed bat under the ceiling and _voila_.

'If this giant place is a tomb just for Dante, you'll gonna have to build a few more for the rest of us!', the blonde shouts. I peek at him with acknowledgement. Good line! And I've just thought that the whole effort of cutting back to our stuck-up opponents would fall onto my shoulders! It's visible that the kid learns from the best. Dante can hide along with his syllabus, Professor Moon's lectures give better results!

'Surrender now! You may be shown mercy', the bald one warns. 'If you don't… you won't live to regret it!'

Yeeeah, as if I could be scared by a bunch of geezers dressed in foolish rags… In such age you should retire already, not play some covens!

'What do you think? Surrender?', Dante throws to us, spreading his arms theatrically.

'Yeah, sure', Montehue agrees at once, drawling the syllables. 'Oh wait, got a museum lecture on Thursday, I can't!', he adds immediately.

I'm starting to like you more and more, teddy! You didn't only save my ass, you also know what sarcasm is! I almost regret it that you didn't achieve the best position in Hunik and it's not you I have to finish off. We'd get along well! But earlier, I'd have to shave your beard for sure.

'Oh, too bad…', Vale sighs unduly. 'Then we fight!'

I had an impression that the guys don't like each other, and now look! What a synchronization! They launch themselves at the Guardians, who doesn't turn out to be as grouchy as I thought. As for their age, they run quite fast!

'It's cool being a Seeker!', Lok goes into awe. 'You explore strange new cultures and get attacked by them!' Well, there are various reasons to be happy… 'Let's do it! Freelancer!'

'Defend us, Sabriel!', Sophie joins in.

I don't summon any Titans. In a clash, Kilthane is no match for the wiry, agile Guardians. Strix work mainly as a surprise effect, and Gareon… oh no, I won't throw my little Gareon to those geezers to tear him apart, no way! I'll handle this alone. I nudge one of the crocks and trip the second one over. Nice.

However, I can't equal to the harmony of movements presented by the two Foundation rivals. Like ballet dancers from _The Swan Lake_! Though any prima donna wouldn't whack anyone's mouth like Dante and Montehue do. Actually, I don't know who fights better… Montehue does it more spectacularly for sure, with all that waving axes and ramming his opponents, like a huge bear or a rhino. On the other hand, Dante is more agile, like a big cat, he parries the blows with ease and uses the enemies' weak points against them. It requires a good school of martial arts, but he acts as if he was a natural for it.

Alright, it's not some action movie which I can watch and even slow down the play. I hear Tersly's scream, the Guardians attack him. Isn't here anyone else who can help him? Why do I always have to act like a babysitter for such wimps?!

'I thought', I begin, running before the gingy, 'all the Foundation agents', I knock the Guardian to the ground with a kick, 'were supposed to be brave!', the geezer falls down like a cut tree. The fight doesn't disturb me in throwing biting remarks all around. 'Touchram!', I wipe two grandpas away.

'We fought them off long enough, let's go!', Lok gets impatient.

Easy to say, kid! You're not surrounded by six at once! What a popularity I have, really… Shame that only among guys sixty plus!

'Thundercut!', shouts one of them, but instead of hitting me, he strikes Tersly's belly and lift him up, holding his throat.

'Tersly!', Montehue yells, coming to the rescue. 'Dragonfist!'

Enhanced by the spell, large-like-rocks fists of the Seeker squeeze air out of the Guardian's lungs; the guy lets Tersly go. The spell's power pushes him to the column supporting the ceiling, which shakes and… finally starts to fall down.

I leave my latest victim, gazing at the pieces pouring onto our heads.

'Everyone, out!', Dante orders while the risk of a cave-in rises each second.

Yeah, 'cause obviously I'll wait until I have a date with Thor himself! I run into the established corridor, Sophie follows me. Why is the rest dallying?! Screw the whole group, but where is that Vale sucker?! I plan him such attractions and he wants to die, again?! Hold me, people, or I'll kill him! Oh, right. I'll finish him off nevertheless. I got carried away.

Finally Dante dashes into the corridor, carrying Tersly.

'Where're Lok, Cherit and Montehue?!', Sophie gets anxious.

Dante's response is drown by the noise of falling rocks. They cover the exit. If we had stayed there, there wouldn't have been nothing to collect from us…

'What's with the others?!', Sophie squeals, demanding an answer.

'I didn't see', Dante says, putting the unconscious ginger under the wall. 'They were just behind me, but…'

'Oh no, it's horrible, I'm claustrophobic…', Tersly mumbles, waking up slowly.

'The cave-in is long past us, boy, so man up and calm down!', I advise him, annoyed that I'm surrounded mostly by fags and total farts.

'Dante, you don't think that… that Montehue and Lok were crushed in there?!', the frightened girl worries.

'I'm sure they're fine', Vale calms her down, helping Tersly stand.

'With all due respect, it looked pretty grim', the assistant speaks up pessimistically. 'How can you be sure?'

'Because knowing my luck, Montehue will be following me around till I'm old in grave', Dante murmurs mockingly.

Ah, so that's true what people say about them. They really can't stand each other. That is, they tolerate each other from a distance and until they don't get in each other's way… but if they accidentally bump into each other, it always ends up in a clash. Those Montehue's remarks – why would he tease Dante if not from envy? For a guy big like a mountain, who elbows his way to everything he wants to achieve, being on a lower level than someone like Dante Vale – basically an ordinary guy who doesn't distinguish himself with anything, maybe only an awful sense of fashion – must be a disgrace. I also noticed Dante's frown when he saw Montehue. Is he afraid of his position? He should be. Monty's pretty good. Perhaps there's only one spectacular victory left to make him become the top agent. And that's why Dante has a face of a cat pissing on the dessert. The stress is eating him inside. And I'm just contributing to this, comparing him to Monty.

And that's fine. Maybe he'll try some more to ingratiate himself with me. After all, every male defends his territory when he sees a rival crossing the border, right? And I, somehow, am in his patch. That's him who invited me to the team, not Monty, so he'll try to show me at any cost that I got under the wings of the best leader on Earth. Ah, this trivial male psyche.

'That's the kind of pessimistic optimist a girl can believe in', I assure him.

He throws me a glare askance. What? Throwing a hissy fit that I won't hug, comfort and scratch your head? I'm sorry, but if being overambitious is your only problem, you don't know what true hardships are.

'Regardless, we have to get moving', he murmurs under his breath. 'Let's go', he leads us to a gold-plated door at the corridor's end, sealed for good. Bravo. A dead end. That's the final part of the trip with the travel agency _Vale&Co_.

'I think…voic…in…re…is…ay…ir!'

The unclear shout of the Guardian coming from nearby alarms us all. Shame they weren't crushed. It'd be one trouble less.

'Oh no!', Tersly panics.

'Is this part of your plan?', I throw haughtily to Dante.

'Actually… yes', he responds in a surprisingly spry voice comparing to his latest whining, sending me a wide smile. What's up? I mock him every minute and he still grins to me like that? Though… he's got something to show. He could advertise toothpaste.

'Here they are!', the Guardians don't give up. 'The infidels have nowhere to run!'

There always is a way to escape. I know it from experience.

'Touchram!', Dante breaks the seal without hesitation, forcing a hole big enough for us to worm through it, what we do at once.

'I don't understand', I speak, coming down with the rest and looking back at the door; I expected the stream of Guardians flowing through it, but nothing like that happens. 'Why aren't they following?'

'Because they're followers', Dante responds, not even staring at me. What a strange logic… Alright, but, couldn't you be more specific? 'This area of the temple is forbidden.'

'But why?', I seek the truth; two dozens of geezers didn't hesitate to attack us before and now they'd act according to the rules? 'Is there something… they're afraid of?'

'That's right', Dante admits, 'and it's kept down here.'

'Oh my goodness!', Tersly moans, frightened by a mere thought of it. 'Out of the frying pan and into the fire!'

'This cave…', Sophie wonders out loud, observing the walls and then touching one. 'I can't believe it, but it seems like…'

'The very walls are laced with magic', Tersly fulfills the observation.

'What for?', I hate such riddles. And I've got especially bad luck with caverns and cave-ins.

'A power source for a Titan to act independently when its Seeker is gone', Dante explains patiently.

'A wild Titan?!', Sophie can't believe it; maybe she reads a lot, but she haven't seen much in her life.

'With this much energy, he could roam free for thousands of years', Vale confirms.

'What kind of Titan?', Tersly asks, terrified.

'A very… dangerous one', our leader responds frankly. 'But don't worry. I won't let anyone of you die here', he calms us down with a confident voice.

'Well, you almost did few times', I remark ostentatiously.

Dante bristles, as if I rubbed him the wrong way. He throws me a stare above his shoulder. I handle it, putting both hands on my hips and raising my eyebrows insolently. Deal with it, honey. His eyes darken, he turns his back to me.

'Keep your eyes open for anything unusual', he murmurs under his breath, subdued.

**The same day, 11:14**

**The temple of Thor**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

'This sculpture has magical properties, too!', Sophie states, examining the complex ornament depicting a snake twining on the wall of the greenish chamber, lightened by four torches.

'It's part of a puzzle', Dante explains. 'The key to finding the hammer of Thor. But it looks like we're not alone…'

I stopped to be surprised about it. Wherever we go, there always is a riddle, a trap or… a murderous Titan.

'Your bad luck seems to be holding out', I remark wryly, listening out to the panting and claws scratching the stone.

'_Fenris – attack: 4, defense: 4, type: Litho-Tytan Warrior, size: large, special abilities: fury attack', _the holotome announces, sensing the Titan.

'Great', Dante comments bitterly. He's got the right to be out of sorts. It's definitely not his day.

In the distance, something crushes with a huge noise. And so we've got a sample of Fenris' power…

'The strongest of all Norse monsters!', Tersly utters, trembling. 'What should we do?!'

'Just stay ca…', Dante begins, but stops, goggling his eyes when a enormous, slobbery beast dashed into the chamber.

My jaw drops. Oh crap. I expected an average domestic dog, some kind of a shepherd after a bit of upgrade, but… Fenris may be a wolf, but after stimulants. His large, shaggy head almost hits the ceiling. His whole body looks thin, but sinewy and frighteningly agile. However, his forepaws make up for the rest – two gigantic hairy fists, toughened by covers made of bronze, stuffed with golden spikes. Additionally, a monstrous muzzle full of fangs and sticking-out, long tongue – and you've got the whole image.

Thanks, Dante. Thanks, Klaus. That's your fault that I got here. And I knew I should have never listened to any men!

The hot, stinking breath tugs our clothes.

Fenris roars angrily, smashing both fists against his chest; the sound echoes in the chamber. He pierces us with his bloodshot eyes, apparently wondering who would be the best starter.

'Don't eat me, please!', panicked Tersly shouts. So we've got a volunteer for being a bait. But as long as we stay together, he shouldn't enrage Fenris with his squealing.

'Way to stay calm, Tersly', I growl. _Or I'll feed you to Thor's dog._

'Dante, we have to do something!', the shaking assistant ignores me.

You don't say, dude. Of course I'll just stand and watch how the charging wolf skins me!

'Scatter!', Dante shouts.

Me, Dante and Sophie jump aside, but the paralyzed Tersly can't even move his feet. In such situation, the savior of the oppressed always appears.

'Gotcha!', Vale grabs his collar and pulls him away from before Fenris' muzzle. 'Bubblelift!', a spherical cover forms around Tersly, carrying him towards Sophie in a bubble of energy. Meanwhile Dante faces the Titan eye to eye.

'Touchram!', he shots the spell right at his jaw and jumps into the air when the annoyed wolf attacks him. Vale lands on his head and gives him a kick, then falls onto the floor. Wasn't Ymir enough for him?! Does he want to irritate the monster dog?!

'Why isn't Dante using his Titans?!', I murmur, furious with this imbecile. If he kicks the bucket now, I'll be done. 'Fight, Kilthane!'

The dark knight charges at Fenris vehemently, smashing his sword against the opponent's belly. The wolf howls piercingly, then pushes Kilthane away with one wave of the paw… finishing him off. What?! He win over him with just one blow?! That's impossible… Ouch, rather possible, I feel it perfectly when Kilthane's power returns to the amulet.

'He'll only drain your power!', Dante warns. I noticed as much!

'He's right! Fenris draws his strength from the magic of this temple! You can't affect him with direct attacks!', Sophie joins in. And now you're telling me this?!

'Go, I'll catch up!', Dante rushes us, avoiding the wolf's blows.

Am I supposed to leave him alone to his fate, against a bloodthirsty wolf? To let Fenris tear him into pieces? But what I would do? I lost so much power, I leak like a broken tap and feel worse and worse every minute. Will I be any help in such a state? Klaus can say what he wants, but there are few forbidden things during 'those days'… especially an exhausting wrestling with Norse monsters.

I'm sorry, Dante. Maybe you're worth a lot for the Organization, but I value my life more.

I turn away and run into the corridor with the rest. We rush headlong, not turning into any suspect tunnels, which could be dead-ends. Sophie looks back every minute.

'He'll crush him!', she shouts.

'Who will crush whom?!', I throw ironically to drown my fears. I know perfectly what she's talking about. 'Dante isn't a wimp, we'll just disturb him, no one among us equals to him in hand-to-hand combat, he'll manage…', I assure everyone, but myself the most.

With every word, I feel more strongly that I'm lying to myself. I made a mistake, I shouldn't have left him. If he dies, I won't live for long either. Klaus and the Professor will take care of it…

I hear an additional patter of boots behind us and Fenris' furious roar.

'He's coming already!', Sophie guesses, then, a bit calmed down, stares ahead. 'Look, there's a door up there!'

We run through them, waiting for Tersly for a moment. There's a bar; we just have to shut the gate and secure it to be separated from Fenris… but Dante…

'Dante, you have to get out of there!', Sophie insists, counting that the echo carries her voice to Vale's ears.

He's here; he emerges from around the corner. He's not alone, Fenris runs after him heavily. It looks horrible; as if I was watching a hunting predator in a nature program.

'Come on, Dante, hurry!', Sophie spurs him, though her face becomes long from fear. 'He's getting tired', she addresses me. 'I don't think he can use any more powers!'

'I should be able to help…', I state more to myself than to her, clenching my fists, 'but I can't…'

'Zhalia, it's not your fault', Sophie says to me way more gently that usually. What is she blabbering? Why is she so kind? Did she notice that I'm out of condition today and guessed the reasons for that? She's a girl, after all, she probably also menstruates already and knows how a woman's body react during such a time. And now she thinks that I'm angry 'cause I care about this idiot! That'll be the day! I just hate feeling helpless. I hate failures. And seeing Dante as a victim… He was supposed to be mine, but it seems like I have to surrender to Fenris. A weaker specimen never gets in the stronger one's way. There's nothing I could do. I won't sacrifice myself that much for an ordinary Foundation scum… right?

After all, he can still manage… He's getting closer and closer, few more leaps and he'll join us. Fenris also notices that, but he isn't going to resign from his prey; his long tongue trips Dante up. Vale falls onto the floor ponderously, hitting it with his back.

'Nooooo!', Sophie yells, seeing Fenris' muzzle an inch from the man's head.

**The same day, 11:26**

**The Temple of Thor**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

Dante Vale had been looking into death's eyes many a time. But he had never felt its burning, decay-stinking breath on his skin. And he had never had such a strong feeling that the end had come.

So he was supposed to die here? Here, in the temple forgotten by the civilization, in the jaws of the monstrous dog who will leave only scraps of his body, and then the Guardians will use them for their filthy rituals?! He'll leave everything he has to do? He'll allow those disgusting geezers to chase his team to death, hem them in and then kill one by one?! He'll give Monty his position in the Foundation ranking and the hammer of Thor?! He'll let Zhalia look at him as at a complete failure, nod her head with resignation above his dead body? And then… he'll throw away the every-month travel to Germany he planned for the weekend, let down someone who has been waiting for him for four weeks?! Never!

The power rose in him in the last desperate wave; he caught it like a raffish mustang.

'Nimblefire!', he screamed, pushing away from Fenris' mouth with a kick and falling among his team backwards.

The girls hurled themselves at the door and shut them with huge efforts; Tersly bolted them. Dante stood up ponderously, quavering a bit and panting. Oh man; the corridor blurred before his eyes, he had to put his hands on his knees and lean down not to faint. He had apparently overdone it… but at least he was alive…

'It won't hold… for long…', he choked out, catching big breaths and finally gathering enough strength to straighten up.

He met the hazel, attentive eyes' stare and a nonchalant smile of satisfaction. He raised his chin higher. He wouldn't give Zhalia Moon a reason to jeer at his helplessness again.

'Hold what?'

Two extremely different figures appeared in the corridor – a burly giant and a short boy. Dante obviously felt relieved seeing Lok, but he possibly had never been so glad at Monty's sight. Maybe sometimes he really had had an itch to finish him off himself, but the thought about the competitor being crushed by the rocks hadn't appeared pleasant. Later someone could say that Dante Vale had gotten rid of his uncomfortable rival himself! He smiled lightly to his thoughts; yes, he definitely wouldn't want Monty to be gone.

'I thought you were in trouble!', Lok spoke, as if they parted five minutes before and didn't worry what happened to their two lost comrades at all.

'You're right', Tersly admitted. 'It's just outside the door!'

'What is it?', Lok sought the truth.

'In the ancient legends of the Norse gods, there is a tale of Thor and the mighty dog…', the assistant wondered.

'The dog is Fenris', Sophie explained. 'Didn't Thor him up with the magic rope?'

'Gleipnir!', Tersly added. 'It's the rope that can't be broken…', he peeked at the door anxiously; the splinters started to come off.

'Our survival depends on finding it', Dante stated.

'No need to fear', Monty spoke jovially. 'If anyone can find, Tersly and I can. And I'd find it faster than you!', he pointed his finger at Vale's team.

'We'll see', Dante accepted the challenge; slipping away from Fenris' claws filled him with more courage. That fatso would never make such a nimble move!

Montehue just snarled and ran off with his assistant.

'I suspect that Gleipnir must be in a hidden room!', Sophie spoke.

'Well, if they have Fenris locked up in here, and they fear him', Lok thought, 'they'll keep the rope nearby! Hey! I think I know where!'

'Lead the way', Cherit encouraged him.

**The same day, 11:39**

**The temple of Thor**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

'If the stone snake acts like a lock, maybe it needs to take a certain shape…', Lok wondered out loud.

Fenris' amulet had been laying in Dante' pocket safely for few minutes already. It had taken much effort from the whole team to subdue him, though, and he wasn't pleased with the imprisonment after thousands of years at large. The power of the monstrous dog, infuriated that a bunch of pint-sized humans had shackled him like a cur, still emitted a very strong aura, even coming through the coat. Vale tightened his grip on the amulet, frowning a bit. It wasn't easy to admit for an ambitious man like him, but he didn't think he could bond with the Titan, even if he tried hard. Fenris was too savage for such a cool-headed guy. The Foundation would have to find him a suitable Seeker.

He turned around, hearing steps; next to him, Zhalia did the same thing, alarmed.

'Dante!', Monty spread his arms with joy, rushing into the room. 'I guess you haven't met your doom!'

'Not yet', he smirked. 'And you haven't met yours', he added, not sure if he should be glad or discontent.

'Well, it might be right around the corner', the Seeker responded especially lightly yet unnatural, pointing at the coming Guardians. Who didn't seem happy at all.

'Leading that mob here was a good idea – why?...', Zhalia threw wryly; Monty didn't find a good answer, confused and embarrassed.

Dante let himself smile with content. So waving axes all around wasn't enough, was it?

'Lok, Sophie, get this door open!', he returned to his leader role, more confident. 'Everyone else – keep them trapped in the hole! Touchram!', his spell gave the others a signal to attack. The power hit with doubled energy, knocking the first row of Guardians to the ground.

'Gareon!', Zhalia joined in and after a moment along with her Titan shot the charms at the enemies.

'That won't hold them back long', Monty stated, pushing a big, ornamented block to the entrance, 'even if they're only as strong as a litter of kittens…'

'Give him a hand, Caliban!', Dante called.

Two musclemen handled it better than one, but covering the entrance enraged the Guardians even more. The brightness of their spells lightened the corridor.

'Ah, something's happening!', Lok shouted when the stone snake had moved, hissing like a real serpent.

'They're gonna break through any minute…', Dante remarked trenchantly, rushing them by his impatient timbre.

'We're trying!', Lok responded tentatively.

Two Guardians had given up fighting with the barricade, instead they tried to go above it.

'Solwing, fight!', Dante shouted, seeing it.

The Titan whizzed through the room and hooking his claws to the persecutors' hoods, he yanked them and pulled back to the corridor. Unfortunately, that failure was the last straw that broke the camel's back. The Guardians started to hit the block with Thundercut, crushing it slowly. Monty groaned; it was a big load even for him.

'Once they get through, there'll be too many of them', Dante judged. 'We'll have to abandon this room!'

'That means abandoning the mission', Zhalia remarked meaningfully, peeking at him askance.

He knitted his eyebrows, sensing a reproof in her voice. He didn't like it. Harmless bantering and making him realize that he had been screwing everything up were two different things…

'Touchram!', the spell tore the block into pieces; Caliban returned to the amulet, and Montehue fell onto the floor, thrown away by the power. He got up quickly, though, seeing the charge of the encouraged Guardians.

'Let them come here!', he drew out his inseparable axes.

'We did it!', Lok's shout made them turn to the gate, now wide open before them.

'Now is our chance!', Sophie showed everyone the entrance. 'Come on!'

'Montehue!', Dante pulled his rival by the shoulder; well, if it was necessary.

All the Seekers stood in the narrow passage; Cherit joined them after a moment.

'I locked the door again!', he squealed, self-content. 'Now they can bang on and they won't go through anyway!'

'Good work', Dante praised him. 'Come on', he pointed at the flashes seen at the end of the short corridor.

They entered a round chamber; there was a huge pedestal reaching to the very ceiling. It was surrounded by oval ledges, hanging in the air by a strange coincidence, whereas on the top…

'There she is!', Montehue beamed, seeing the long-for hammer; it looked distinguished and mighty, glistening with golden fixtures and shiny gems and giving out bluish sparkles. He had feasted his eyes only for a moment; then, apparently urging to lay his hands on it, he threw to Dante: 'May the best man win.'

Vale hadn't had to be told twice; he wasn't going to back down, not now when he was so close to his goal. He was positive; he had bigger chances at climbing than that heavy fat ass. Besides, his whole team was staring at him, he couldn't make a fool of himself in front of them! He'll show them that not only a loud behavior and boasting with the physical strength make a leader out of a man! Especially to certain spiteful crosspatch with a snub nose.

He jumped onto the first ledge skillfully, bounced off it, jerked up, caught the other one, pulled himself up, jumped again… He felt in his element. Hadn't he been praised by his teachers due to his fitness many times, wasn't he constantly saved by it when the powers failed? The hammer of Thor was closer and closer, and Monty was apparently falling behind.

'A test of worthiness from Thor himself!', he accentuated to point out how much he'd be honored if he touched the hammer first. He bounced off the floating stone to get to the top of the pedestal, when…

He got tugged by his ankle, what dragged him down. He hung in the air for a second, falling down and not finding any support around. He desperately caught the ledge not to crash against the ground.

'He cheated!', Sophie shouted from down there.

Dante clenched his teeth, feeling that his left arm was giving up – it had always been a bit less resilient… He tried to hang on the right one, trying not to slide down, but he was weakened by the fight with Fenris and Ymir. He let go, using Featherdrop at the last moment not to hurt himself. From the floor he observed how Montehue raised his loot triumphally.

'We did it!', Lok shouted when Montehue was brought down on one of the ledges. 'We have the hammer of Thor!', he clapped his hands.

Dante faked a smile of joy. He would have never given Monty a satisfaction showing him a sour face!

'Now we have to get out of here with it', he murmured, breaking the euphoria. He could handle a little bit of it, but he wouldn't let Montehue rest on his laurels and just accept praises and raptures.

Monty didn't respond, suddenly weighed down by the hammer. He groaned, trying to lift it again.

'What's wrong?', Lok asked, surprised.

'Suddenly it's ten times the weight it should be…', Montehue murmured suspiciously.

'We have to move', Dante said mercilessly. _Serves you right, you cheater, _he thought with dignity. After all, there is a justice in this world.

**The same day, 12:01**

**The temple of Thor**

**Somewhere in the mountains**

**Iceland**

'That thing looks like it's almost as heavy as my Western Civ textbook!', Lok remarked, observing hunched Monty. 'Can we give you a hand?'

'I got the hammer first, I will carry it myself!', the Seeker insisted, slicked with sweat, panting hard from effort.

Music to Dante's ears.

'There should be an exit just through this cavern ahead', he pointed, leading the team. Suddenly, a smirk appeared on his mouth. 'Well, what do we have here…', he murmured, seeing the Guardians and the bald one from the Organization barring their way. 'Looks like my luck is changing for the better!', he added, coming out to them without fear. Great, he wanted to vent his bad mood on someone.

'There's no escape!', the bald one announced. 'The door is blocked with a tenfold slaver stone! You can't fight all my minions with the weight of the hammer Mjolnir!'

Monty agreed with him silently, puffing under his breath.

'And I believe', the Organization agent began jeeringly, 'Ymir is still angry after his last encounter with you…'

Everyone turned out to realize that the strange noise, resembling drums or an earthquake, were caused by the steps of the frost giant.

Maybe Dante didn't believe in his own words about bad luck, but he knew that there were days when everything acts against him. And that was one of those days.

The team twitched, hearing a loud thump right next to them. The hammer of Thor landed on the floor.

'We'll fight them head on!', Montehue didn't get overhelmed by the general panic at the sight of the colossus. 'I won't give up my prize to the Organization!', he furrowed his bushy brows, with arms akimbo.

'You won that in competition', Lok admitted, 'but friends become better friends by working together!'

Dante and Monty exchanged unfriendly stares. Them friends? Never if it came to winning! Asking for help was also out of question. The mission was a battlefield where they stood against each other. But when the mutual enemy arrived…

'All right then', Dante swallowed his pride first in the face of the threat in the guise of the ice colossus. He wasn't alone here. He had to get the others out. 'What did you have in mind?'

'I'll distract Ymir', Lok continued. 'Then… maybe together you two can use the hammer!'

'Teamwork again!', Montehue guessed. 'Well, if I have to…', he added favorably.

'Go!', Dante hurried Lok.

The boy used Hyperstride and jumped right under the Titan's feet without hesitation, avoiding his fist by inch. Cherit squealed from fear.

'Oi, Lok, keep moving!', he warned Lambert.

'We'll need our quickest Titans to cover him!', Sophie shouted. Zhalia summoned Strix in response. Montehue joined in, calling Tolivane, which resembled a fat, wrinkled pig with long, fleshy ears the most.

'Alright, let the girls handle it', Dante rushed Monty.

'If you have to make use of two petite little women…', his rival murmured.

'Apparently you haven't seen those 'little women' in action. They're Seekers, not school-girls', Dante hushed him. 'Come on up!'

They hoisted the hammer uneasily; Dante had to admit that it was a piece of desperately heavy ironware. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to carry it longer than his rival… which didn't change the fact that someone took this chance away from him. It wasn't the most important thing now, though.

'It has to gain momentum', Montehue remarked and started to rotate it. 'Make use of those weedy hands of yours, Vale!'

'I was about to advise you the same thing!', Dante drawled through clenched teeth, giving it the best he could.

'Keep the tempo!', Montehue lectured him.

'It's you who speeds up! And don't waste your breath!', he cut back.

The situation was getting more tense every second; small Strix had been turned into dust. Tolivane, covering them from the baldy's spell, returned to its amulet. Zhalia and Sophie fought bravely with the Guardians, but for how long two could handle an army of well-trained warriors? Lok had to run away from Ymir with Kipperin's help, and that way the giant lost interest in young Lambert. He went towards the eye-catching, glistening hammer. Dante peeked at Monty. The Seeker understood that gaze. And now for the first time during the mission, they called back that they were not only rivals; more importantly, they were friends who knew each other so well that they could even say 'I hate you' and then laugh it off freely, who went through many troubles together and who would survive another one just to continue their never-ending fight… and friendship.

'One! Two! Three! Dragonfist!', they yelled at the same time.

'Now!', Dante gave the signal and they both let go of the handle, sending the hammer right towards Ymir.

The treasure of Thor, sparkling, went clean through the giant's chest. The power released by the hammer burnt Jokoul to ashes, the men were thrown onto the walls and the floor; the Guardians and their leader dropped like flies, stunned by the blow. Dante also got dazed when he had hit his head against the floor, but jerked it up quickly despite the pain, observing how the golden hammer was breaking a huge hole in the cavern's wall, launching into the clear, blue sky.

'Wow!', Lok beamed, covering his eyes from the dazzling sun. 'Instant sunroof!'

Monty obviously had a better comment.

'That was a good one as for a dwarf like you', he stated, nudging Dante. 'Though I'd have made it less jagged.'

And so, the things came back to normal.

**The same day, 15:51**

**The Iceland-Venice flight **

**Above the North Sea**

The sole advantage of the long travel was that they at least weren't coming back by a tight aircraft. That way, Dante had some time to regain his strength. The pain in the strained left arm hadn't stopped, his legs also itched. However, the thing that tormented him the most was his frayed ambition. Under his closed eyes, which the hard sunlight was piercing through anyway, constantly showed an image of Monty raising the hammer triumphally and enraptured stares of his teammates, especially Zhalia's haughty gaze. It stung. He tightened his lids, so hard that the colorful spots started to dance under them, but it didn't help at all.

'I guess I have an uncanny luck', an amused female voice spoke above his ear. 'I've already met two greatest Huntik stars.'

He opened his eyes and turned his head, meeting the hazel, feline stare observing him attentively. Zhalia took the seat beside him; bent slightly, she leaned on its frame, with her chin put on the palm of her hand.

'Congratulations', he murmured, trying not to sound too ironic. 'You could've taken an autograph. Monty loves it.'

She smirked derisively with the corner of her mouth.

'You're kicking yourself 'cause you gave him Fenris and the kid is going to present the hammer of Thor to the Foundation instead of you?', she guessed infallibly, not taking her eyes off him.

He bridled. She didn't have to remind him of his own stupidity. He didn't have any reservations about honoring Lok, but he couldn't get over that he appreciated his rival's skills. At first he had been proud of himself when he had overcame his ambition and adding an appropriate praise, he had handed him such an useful gift – the strongest Norse Titan. But when Montehue had responded to that gesture with a patronizing remark, as if he had been completely deserving commendations from his colleague, and even had been awaiting a god-like admiration, Dante had had a terrible itch to snatch the amulet back and set the monstrous dog on the Seeker, heedless of the consequences.

'Lok got us out of trouble, he really deserves such a prize. The most important thing is that we found the hammer in the snow and it'll be delivered to the Foundation, it doesn't matter by whom. And I wouldn't have been able to tame Fenris', he explained to prove her that giving the Titan was a deliberate decision which he didn't regret. 'Like I said: it's Monty who resembles Thor the most, maybe he'll get along with that big brute, after all, they're so much alike…', he continued, though he didn't sound convincing even for himself, let alone the sharp-witted, perceptive girl.

'Of coooourse', she threw sarcastically. 'Whom are you trying to fool?'

'I don't have to fool anyone', he bridled. 'SOME PEOPLE has already formed an opinion about me…', he added tartly, turning his head aside and pretending to watch the clouds.

'Oh, come on', she lightly nudged his elbow with her finger. 'I was just kidding back then, on the bridge. At least you behave like a human, not a circus bear. I wouldn't want you to pattern yourself on him. It'd be flipping if you always whooped as if we had been deaf, treated us like mere runts and waved your axes around, almost cutting our heads off…', she placated. 'Look', he obediently peeked at the strand she had shown him, which in his opinion looked completely normal. 'I lost much hair due to his antics. You owe me a hairdresser after the return', she added jokingly.

'If you insist', he murmured, cheering up a bit. Quipping with Zhalia didn't let him think about the failure.

'I do', she admitted without restraint. 'And then you'll ask me for a coffee.'

Dante peeked at her with surprise. She observed him expectantly, as if waiting for his reaction. Wasn't she joking? Of course, he had nothing against her proposition, on the contrary, it was a nice surprise after thinking that she had lost all the respect for him, but… he had already had plans for the weekend which he couldn't change at any cost. He lowered again.

'I'd really want to', he admitted frankly, 'but… I won't be around for next two days. It's quite urgent…', he justified himself.

'No problem, I'll wait', she responded lightly. 'So? Are we meeting in two days?', she asked, tilting her head with a fluid movement.

Such an occasion couldn't go to waste, especially because fickle Zhalia could change her mind very quickly.

'In my house', he said without hesitation. 'I make the best coffee on this hemisphere.'

She laughed quietly at his boast, as if she had had a feeling that his morose mood would end up like that if she just gave him a good reason to be content.

'We'll see', she came back to her usual bantering timbre, brushing her hair off onto her back; they coiled around her neck like small glossy feathers.

'I'm just wondering', he began shrewdly, staring at his knees, as if it hadn't been interesting him at all, 'why a girl like you wants to meet with a loser…'

Unexpectedly, he heard her amused purr very close to him; the fur from the green coat tickled his shoulder.

'Maybe I like losers like you', she whispered playfully; with every word, he felt her lips dabbing at his ear and her breath warming it, causing a tingle somewhere in his underbelly.

He sat like paralyzed, not even daring neither to twitch nor to turn, because if he had just met her hypnotizing gaze… The dark strands bounced, Zhalia's arm brushed his elbow when the woman stood up smoothly and slipped right before his knees to come back to her seat next to Lok. When she had disappeared from his sight, Dante breathed out and slumped into his chair, as if the whole air had been pushed out of him. He tried to soothe a rough pulsation of his boisterous blood. However, the sensations elicited by Zhalia's unexpected touch didn't want to ease off, they even burgeoned, though there wasn't anything left from the girl besides a subtle smell of her perfume.

'_I haven't been on a date for too long', _he stated, disconcerted, trying to regain self-control.

_A date_? Why did it come to his mind so suddenly? He smiled to himself lightly. Let it be. It seemed like he had just gotten a date.

He leaned his head on the headrest and thought that sometimes – very rarely and not for too long – it was good to be a loser. Though suddenly, he stopped to feel like one.


	10. Chapter 10: The Iceberg Melts

I'M SORRY! (Jap. _Sumimasen!)_

I know I'm evil. I'm wicked. And vile. But please, don't be angry with me! I really wanted to write sooner, I just didn't have time... My first university weeks were sooo hard! Now it's better. I'm getting used to my new schedule, I've got new acquaintances and stuff, but I still have much homework to do and many things to memorize, so, you know... Studying Japanese is important for me, I don't want to be thrown out of the university. If I want to do well, I have to work hard.

However, the story and you, my dearest Readers, are as much important, so I'm torn apart! I don't want to neglect you. Actually, I have to confess that I miss you all like hell... I sometimes come back to your old comments and gain more courage for the next days. But it's not the same thing as reading the fresh ones. I hope you didn't drop the story just because of the delay...

Hurray, I can respond to the comments now (though late):

- Jess: I know that I made Dante and Monty's rivalry a bit harsher that it was portrayed in the episode, but I wanted Zhalia to have a good reason to cheer Dante up ;) I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I couldn't resist! I think that it wasn't that Dante and Zhalia were just acquaintances and then booom, they fell in love. I think they were attracted to each other, so they were probably meeting - as friends or so. For adults, 'dates' are something different than for teenagers, so they don't have to be treated like a signal 'I love you', 'We're a couple'. Well, many teenagers also don't treat it like that, but... oh, you get the point, I hope.

- Kimberly: I feel especially bad for disappointing you! You sent me two comments and I almost broke apart seeing that you wait for the next chapter so impatiently. There aren't many things as valuable for a writer than such a devoted fan! Thank you. You made me pull myself together and find some time to write, no matter what the cost. You can feel like a co-author of this chapter ;)

- VVindlady: Yeeeah, Zhalia is such a smartass ;D She knows how to lure Dante the most effectively! I just had to make her tease Dante and compare him to Montehue. I wrote before that she has a thing for rough, blunt men, bruisers or so ^^ Monty isn't literally a 'bruiser', but he acts loudly and jovially and appears to be proficient at fulfilling the mission, so she fell for his pose. But her attitude towards Dante won - she thinks she feels pity for him, but... is it really just a pity or maybe a liking? And he had to show some devilish horns, he can't be a goodie-goodie the whole time ;P And it shows he doesn't like Zhalia to underestimate him, kukuku.  
I know that the Guardian didn't really resemble any of the wizards, but, you know, it's just Lok ^^ He always says silly things. And I couldn't resist the 'You shall not pass' line ^^

This chapter can be a metaphor of my recent attitude towards you. I also was silent for some time and now try to make up for the time I didn't write anything. So, the chapter is fairly long. Hope it will be fine after a month-long break.

Enjoy and see you SOONER than before!

Sha

* * *

**28th June 2009, Sunday, 16:12**

**Dante's house**

**Venice, Italy **

_Dante Vale, you'll certainly fall for me today._

And that's not just an empty boast! Do you really think I'd throw such announcements if I didn't have a 100% guarantee that they'd come true? Oh no, I always prepare the ground for my successes first. Now I know that I have the right to be a bit vain, I checked it before leaving. I look gorgeous! The hours spent in front of the mirror paid off, as well as the dilemmas such as: what to wear? What to do with my hair? Which make-up to choose?

I know that sooner or later, it doesn't matter anymore. The clothes are taken off faster than they were put on and the hair and make-up end up messed up, but… I couldn't deny myself just a small pleasure of seeing Dante's stunned face! I remember his goggled eyes when I flirted with him on plane from Iceland… It was hilarious, really. He's quite a good poser, but now I know that his coolness is just a façade which hides a completely helpless wimp. One could have thought that I was picking up an inexperienced snot, confused and puzzled by a mere stroke of a hand! I start to think that he hasn't banged anyone yet. Or had been so committed to his work recently that he forgot how a woman's touch tastes…

Don't worry, honey. I'll remind you as many times as you'd like.

After all, just for you I put on a push-up bra, thongs sharp like a knife's edge and skin-tight jeans underlining every curve of my bottom and made a war-paint. I hesitated the most over painting my lips. I'm well-aware that the red lipstick is the best decoy for horny guys, but maybe he doesn't like to be covered in crimson imprints? If my kisses surrounded his mouth with a smeared frame, I wouldn't handle it and burst into a mad laughter, comparing him to Joker. It'd ruin the whole atmosphere. That's why I choose the pale lip gloss. Moreover, it's not so suggestive. I know that now I'm denying myself – I WANT to send him a signal that he can take liberties with me – but more you think about it, more logical it gets: I have to look casual because he can't think that I really did my best doing myself up for the date! He has to be aware that it's him who needs to impress me before I let him slip under my clothes. And that's the whole philosophy of that seemingly insignificant detail.

The final effect is satisfactory, besides, with lips like these, I don't really have to do much to upgrade them. Screw modesty, Angelina Jolie can get stuffed with hers, pumped up like a rubber dinghy! I frizz my hair a bit before I knock to the door and make a nonchalant pose, waiting for Dante to open them in front of me, official and a bit uptight. I hope that just today, he won't wear his lame duster. He could try to look fine just that one time… I did myself up, I can even stand a string itching between my cheeks! Though, of course, I'm not going to let it stay there for too long, hihihihi.

What is taking him so long? Maybe he's in the middle of the feverish preparation? It'd be funny to burst in and catch him with his trousers tangled around his ankles and his compromising underwear revealed? The whole Organization would die from laughter, hearing such an anecdote! I can't resist, I press the handle, but, surprisingly, someone does it from the other side in the same time. We pull the door forwards and backwards for a while.

'Who's there?', the unseen person asks finally.

'It's me', I answer, holding back an expressive: '_you idiot'_. _Remember soon that you'll take a photo of his gross pants and send it to the whole Organization, _I lecture myself not to growl. I let go off the handle, I have enough of that nonsensical struggle like from the slapstick comedy. We won't go far that way.

A fair-haired head appears next to the frame.

'Zhalia!', Lok smiles, opening the door wider. 'Hi! What're you doing here?'

'Standing like a fool', I grumble, not very pleased with seeing him. How could I mistake his breaking voice with Dante's baritone? But damn, I didn't expect him here right today! What the hell is he doing here?! Came for some free porn? Dante's already giving away the ticket for the 18+ showing?

'Oh, right', the embarrassed boy corrects himself. 'Come in please.'

'I didn't expect you here', I throw, still discontent. Does Dante need a butler before he greets me himself? Where the hell is he?

'We're taking care of the house', the boy responds, closing the door and inviting me to the living room. Great, so the red monkey is here too. She sits on the carpet as if she was in her own house, and when I just enter the room, she wrinkles her nose as if I had just washed in the septic tank and brought its odor here. I ignore her haughtily, pretending that she's not even here. That's safer for everyone, believe me.

'Dante asked us to drop in on here when he'd be away', Lok continues explaining, sitting onto the sofa next to Cherit. 'He hasn't come back from his mysterious trip yet…'

Excuse me? What does it mean: hasn't come back?! I don't give a shit what stopped him, he was supposed to be here, that's it! He made an appointment with a super chick, for whom he should even swim across the Atlantic just to get there in time! And what's he doing?! He's leaving me with three chaperones, if the unaware Titan also counts!

I can't stand the thought that Dante Vale simply gave me a miss, though he said clearly that we were meeting in two days, so, right today! Maybe he didn't specify the time, but he had few days to do so! And he did nothing, he didn't even call, hell, didn't send a stupid text message! I boil with anger thinking that he didn't count every minute dividing him from meeting me…

'So, there's nothing to do for me', I parry wryly, seriously offended.

'Oh, no, don't go, stay a while!', Lok encourages me, not deciphering my face as an evident symptom of fury. 'He said he'd be gone just for the weekend. Today's Sunday, he has to show himself soon.'

'Do you have some business for him?', Sophie reels up to me ostentatiously, deciding to accept my presence in order to satisfy her sick intrusiveness..

'Even if I do, this business concerns just him, as you remarked', I respond proudly. 'You're right', I say to Lok. 'I'll wait.'

The boy smiles and offers me an armchair, which I take with Cleopatra-like dignity. From this point, I'll have a perfect view of the return of the king, I mean, Dante, of course. And I'll throw him the most scornful stare I can.

He has to understand that no one forgets about a date with Zhalia Moon if he values his life.

**The same day, 16:49**

**The Marco Polo Airport**

**Venice, Italy**

'Sir… We've already landed. It's possible to leave now.'

Dante twitched, taking his eyes off the window. For a moment, he stared unconsciously at the small face of the petite, fair-haired woman in a navy blue costume, leaning over him with a professional smile. Then he blinked and shook his head, noticing that in fact the silhouette of his favorite city on the globe and people rushing on the airport were visible behind the windowpane.

'Right', he admitted apologetically, undoing the safety belt. 'Please forgive me.'

The stewardess smiled again, but somewhat less cheerfully; after a moment, the studied mannequin-like face was replaced by the way more natural expression of ordinary human worry.

'Are you alright, sir?', the woman asked, lightly furrowing her plucked brows.

The question was justified. Dante had seen himself in the mirror today and was well-aware that he wasn't bursting with vigor. He hadn't slept much for last several dozen hours, busy with feverish talks full of medical jargon, keeping a vigil at the bedside surrounded by a complex apparatus and listening to the heavy breath, or with anxious wandering around the guest room and racking his brain to finally find an ingenious solution which could end that suffering once and for all… Additionally, he felt as if his face muscles had frozen in one position, congealed from tension, and couldn't loosen at all, even now when he tried to force a grateful smile.

'Well enough not to trouble you', he responded as politely as possible, trying to make up for his limited mimic with kindness.

'If I could help you somehow…', the girl started shyly; she seemed very young and confused, as well as ready to help.

Dante saddened again. If anyone could help him… If there was such a person… he'd find the legendary cities of gold, found an unicorn or invented the perpetuum mobile to reward him for the favour which meant more than life for him.

'Thank you', he only said, standing up from his seat. 'I hope everything will turn out fine soon.'

His source of comfort was a small rectangular piece of paper stuck in his pocket, on which, with a sharp, angular style, a certain Vienna address was written.

**The same day, 17:29**

**Dante's house**

**Venice, Italy**

I'll murder him, I swear.

I know I promise it constantly, but now I'll do it for sure. And not in a smooth, humanitarian way. Oh no. I've got an idea to smoke the whole pack of cigarettes in his presence and then push the still-burning butt-ends into his asshole, one after another, until another spine would be found after taking an X-ray. What do you think about it?

I almost pierce the paper with the pen. Taking the dictated spare time, I've been trying to scrawl a map by Klaus' instructions. We had a small quarrel about it yesterday. He insisted that I should get interested in the new mission, targeting a certain townhouse in the center of Vienna, where the source of the Basilisk legends possibly laid. I told him that I'd be veeery busy and explained what was the matter, accentuating how clever and resourceful I was, but instead of praising my wit and effectiveness, he seemed dissatisfied. Perhaps he really got into his head that I'd be able to hunt the deadly reptile and set a trap for Dante in the same time! I announced him trenchantly that he had to decide what was more important for him instead of encouraging me to start more advanced actions at first and then suddenly changing his mind after I'm one step apart from fulfilling that array. I also added that personally, I'd prefer to pit myself against the oversized lizard than take care of Mister Vale's 'snake', but it doesn't depend on me and the order from above said that the infiltration should be my priority. Klaus had a hard time deciding. His greediness fought the sense of duty and the willingness to ingratiate himself with the Professor, and what comes next – being raised above all the Organization operatives. Eventually, he told me to do my stuff; however, I know that resignation from the worthy Titan was hard for him and he still isn't pleased with the necessity of such solution. He possibly still wonders how to get both prizes.

It turns out that you really can't have everything at once. When I could have gotten Vale, the Basilisk had laid out of my reach. But now, when Dante enjoys life somewhere in the world and doesn't even think about contacting me, I wonder if chasing the beast isn't quite a good option. After all, if I catch King Basilisk, I'll have a right to keep him; and Dante is just a toy for five minutes which I will have to give to the Professor and then forget about his existence. Maybe only remind myself about him as one thanks to whom I was raised to the top. MAYBE.

'Man, I'm clueless', Lok murmurs, leaning over the table. 'It's like having a pop quiz the day after the spring break…'

I peek askance at the brats. Since I came, they have been playing with some colorful blocks. They suit them perfectly. Finally the kids are in the right place, busy with some rubbish which doesn't really make more sense – apart from keeping them away from any other, more risky actions, endangering their health. Beside them, I feel like a blasé kindergarten career.

'Oh, don't give up, Lok', Cherit cheers him up; oh, sorry, the position of the babysitter is already taken. Right, I hate children. 'Take a look at Sophie!'

The boy obediently raises his stare at the puzzle created by the girl.

'Hey, how did you already get so far?', he wonders, observing how his peer expertly pushes the parts into the right places.

'It's just a tessellation', Sophie shrugs, not stopping her activity. 'You know, like the artist Escher, although it is a very complex one.'

'Tesse-whatses?', Lok furrows his brow. I suppose that on that point, he lost the idea what she was talking about and the whole speech didn't impress him at all. No wonder. For me, it's just a simple blabbering just to let Sophie prove her immense knowledge.

'A tessellation', she repeats patiently. 'It's a pattern made by the series of repeating images. Don't you remember art history class?'

'I'm trying to forget…', he mumbles with disgust, leaning both elbows on the sofa and observing the jigsaw with discontent. I almost see how the processor heats up under his skull. Give it a break, lad, and go take the console. Operating a few buttons is a task suiting your skills best.

'Dante!', Sophie shouts suddenly. 'You're back!'

In a second, I tense like a panther ready to jump, alarmed. I raise my head and the first thing to come at my eyes is a diarrhea-coloured duster taken off from the men's shoulders. Which will end up in pieces in no time, as well as its owner.

Then, I state that someone here had quite a hard weekend.

Dante puts the cloak onto the headrest and slumps into the armchair, staring at his knees, as if he didn't notice our presence. His peepers are vacant and squinted from tiredness, dark circles spread almost to his grayish cheeks. His beard starts to lose its appearance, the extra bristle, seemingly unshaved since the last time I saw him, ruins its usual shape completely. Overall, he seems somewhat crumpled; in the best case, he could pose for a civilized bum or a decedent who were buried too quickly and now was trying to come back to his everyday activities.

But that's not the reason to make me feel pity for him. Not after how he humiliated me. I clear my throat meaningfully to signal that I'm here and deserve some explanations. Unsuccessfully.

'You've been gone for almost two days!', Lok remarks with reproach. 'You haven't even called any of us…'

'That's right, we were worried!', Sophie joins in, looking at her idol anxiously, as if she was afraid that he'd snuff it right now.

'YOU were worried, you mean', I correct her chillily. I'm not interested why he looks as if he survived a close encounter of the third kind. 'Maybe Dante just doesn't wanna share every last thing with you two?'

_But he could share it with me, _I think, staring at him askance. I feel almost as if I was observing the title actor before the first shot of _Dawn Of The Dead._

Sophie throws me a sharp glare, I answer to it meanly.

'Calm down!', Cherit interrupts us, sensing the storm coming, as if a spark of electricity went between us. 'He may have had a mission! What say you, Dante?', he reels up to Vale with curiosity.

The man wriggles anxiously, I don't know if that's a sign of impatience or the confusion.

'Actually…', he speaks up finally; oh, thanks for honoring us with the sound of your voice! Though you should have started with 'Hello everyone' or 'Good afternoon'. 'I was prepping for my trip to Vienna this week.'

I twitch. In Vienna? Why right in Vienna? Damn, I hope he didn't sniff anything suspicious concerning me… that it's not the reason why he's acting as if I wasn't here… as if we weren't appointed for a date…

'My dad's journal mentions Vienna all the time!', Lok remarks with excitement. 'Cool! Let's pack!'

Dante heaves a sigh and stands up slowly; his moves lost most of their springiness. What's up with him? He acts as if he got twice older during just those two days…

'Sorry, but I'm going by myself', he responds strictly.

Lok and Sophie goggle their eyes at him, giving subdued shouts of shock. Cherit's eyes pop out. Oh yeah, I admit, that was kinda out of the blue… I'd rather expect him to at least ask me to join and then spend some time together, maybe a few days during which he would pay me off for his late arrival and that instead of being in a state of advanced undress with my legs around his waist, I have to stand a bunch of kids and his mysterious image change for a George Romero's zombie.

'But…', Lok wants to protest, but he stops, as if he didn't know how to speak his mind, surprised by his teacher's behavior.

Dante approaches the window, passing by my armchair. I observe him askance. Well, maybe you'll at least apologize, you bastard?

'Some things have to be dealt with alone', he explains with a determined voice, lacking his usual understanding.

U-huu, cowboy, you overdid it, trying to impress me… I'm really not moved by silent, severe heroes, especially when I know them as simple dimwits right from the start.

'Too bad', I say out loud ostentatiously, judging that I have to take the lead to make the talk end up my way. 'There's something I've been meaning to check out in Vienna.'

I hope that it'll remind him of our date, that he was late for it and that he still hasn't done anything to fix it.

'Dante, I thought we were a team!', Lok joins in. 'Come on!'

It's not exactly what I meant… What's better: letting him go alone (which makes me miss the chance for the ultimate seduction) or following him, but also accepting the brats' companionship? Well, we could lose those two somewhere… for example, rent ourselves a DOUBLE room in some cozy motel…

Vale stays silent. I have my back exposed to him and I don't want to turn around and in the same way show him that I'm really interested in his reaction. I treat him just like he treats me – pretending not to notice him. The kids, however, stare at him openly, insolently and expectantly.

'Alright', Dante responds finally and I have a feeling that I hear a note of laughter in his voice, surprising given his mood. 'You guys win. Pack up.'

'Oh yes!', Sophie beams, waving her fist with triumph.

I can't say, I'm also content with the way it turned out. Maybe on the plane we will find a moment when Vale will confess repentantly in front of me and as a gesture of redress, ask me not for a coffee, but for a supper… with breakfast included, of course.

'Ehm… We can continue our search for your father, right, Lok?', Sophie corrects herself, realizing that her joy is too unambiguous to look innocent. 'Huh?! How did you…? When did you…?'

It's rare for the young Casterwill to lose her tongue (unluckily), so I'm curious what made her go into such a state.

'The reflection of the pieces caught my eye', Lok points at the mirror, presenting the complete puzzle, identical to the one Sophie created. 'The pattern is a snap to follow when it's reversed!'

Sophie crosses her arms on her chest, especially dissatisfied. I can only imagine that it's not pleasant to be outshined by the class dumbass. After all, she slaved for an hour over something Lok created in a few minutes!

'Sometimes', Dante starts, observing his charges with acknowledgement, 'looking at the problem from the opposite angle will allow you to move forward.'

The conclusion like from the kids' educational program. You don't notice a problem even when it's right in front of you and has been piercing you with a murderous glare for few minutes. If during the whole flight to Vienna you don't explain to me why you're ignoring me, I'll stuff that moral into your ass.

**29th June 2009, Monday, 16:12**

**Next to the Huntik Foundation safehouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

Catching a plane to Vienna hadn't looked as easy as Dante had thought at first. Most of the flights had been canceled or delayed, so they had spent most of the night and morning camping on the airport. Vale envied Lok who could sleep in every conditions and even the plastic chairs made for him a comfortable bed. He himself had just wanted to bundle on one of them and fall into a long sleep, which could take him away from his dismal thoughts and loosen the knot of nervousness which tightened in his chest.

He hadn't had an opportunity to take a nap until they had gotten on board, after nine hours of waiting when he had been so exhausted that he had almost laid on the airstrip. However, he had been waking up every few minutes, anxious and tense. Then he had been dragging out his cell and checked the recent calls list over and over to convince himself that the last conversation hadn't been only his dream and everything had been settled.

He expected to get to Vienna sooner, so when they finally arrived at the Spittelberg, he was already nervous about the delay. He hurried his team as he could, but however obedient the kids were, not wanting to displease him, Zhalia seemed to put off on purpose. Moreover, he had a feeling that she was angry with him again. She sat far away from him in the plane, but from time to time, he caught her furious glare. He hadn't had time to worry about it. That problem had to wait for its solution. He just hoped that it wasn't only a girl's tantrum over some nonsense again.

When he finally dragged the whole gang to the Foundation safehouse, he told them to wait and stayed inside for a while. He finally left, carrying a rectangular, silver suitcase. The surprised team threw him an attentive gaze. Oh yes, he shouldn't have to flaunt it. They probably started to suspect him of smuggling the illegal goods abroad or money laundering. Let it be. At most, his repute would be stained by some mud, ridiculously small comparing to the avalanche that would come down if he hadn't endangered his name.

'I'll be out most of the day on the personal business, so don't wait around for me', he announced without mincing words.

Zhalia snarled, making the strand from her forehead bounce up and down.

'I'm fairly certain I can find what I'm looking for without your help', she blurted sharply with a stoutness he wouldn't accuse her of after they had managed to make up few days before. Not waiting for his reaction, she waved at the passing taxi and jumped into it without saying her goodbyes, vehemently shutting the door.

'Where are we going, lady?', Dante heard the driver's jovial, loud question even through the closed door.

'As far from that jerk as possible', she grunted, intentionally raising her voice and throwing Dante the last angry gaze before the car pulled out screeching.

During the last week, he had already manage to become a loser, and now the jerk was added. He wondered what terms of endearment still awaited him…

He sighed silently and turned around to the two young Seekers. Lok seemed embarrassed by the heard talk, but Sophie, strangely, beamed like a kid who had suddenly gotten a candy.

'I know you two can take care of yourself', Dante only said. 'Call me if there's an emergency', he accentuated the last word, making them aware that it's better not to seek his help in some trifle. Then he turned around and left them as they stood, increasing the distance as much as possible without dashing. Right around the corner, he used Hyperstride and made off, weaving his way between the buildings or running across their roofs to complicate the tracks as much as he could. He knew his charges too well to believe that they wouldn't follow him.

And right now he didn't want to have them by his side. It'd be bad to drag two fifteen-years-old with clean sheets into some black-market arrangements. Even those for a good cause.

**The same day, 17:02**

**The Basilisk's townhouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

_What an asshole one has to be to first ask a girl out, after that disappear for two days, not even send a word and then come back and pretend that nothing happened and there's no matter to settle?!_

That's the only thing I'm wondering about, going through the dark corridor with Gareon on my shoulder. The Basilisk's townhouse is a real labyrinth, I prefer to have some aid by my side, in case I mistake the turns or something. I know I had so much time to memorize the map and I was sure I did, but now it turns out that I can't move in that mess freely! Everything's that idiot's fault!

He had so many occasions to talk to me! And if he only tried, but no, he didn't pay attention to me completely, as if he stated he hadn't had any obligations towards me. Does he suffer amnesia or what?! Or maybe he got swollen-headed?! Such a celebrity! Who'd have thought he's such a twat?!

'_Me', _Gareon interrupts the flow of my thoughts. I sense his approval every time when I spit some obscene epithets referring to Dante. Though I'm not in the mood, his satisfaction makes me amused. Little smarty-pants. I smooth his head and promise him that when I'm done with Dante, he'll get his duster to chew, scratch and tear. The gecko brushes against my cheek with happiness.

Suddenly he freezes and flexed his back like a scared cat. _Someone's coming, _he warns me. I prick my ears and hear the steps, too. I know that DeFoe wanders around and perhaps I shouldn't fear him, but I'd rather not meet him today. We're not in the best terms, as you managed to notice. Besides, even if we were, in the Organization, there isn't such a friendship which would be more important than a valuable prize. None of us would give up on King Basilisk.

I come back to one of the tunnel's mouth, but it turns out to be a dead-end. The nervous Gareon shifts from paw to paw. _Divert their attention, _I order him. He jumps from my shoulder and runs ahead, melting with the environment half-way. I lie in wait until the two silhouettes pass by my hideout. I recognize the red skirt. Oh, great. I lacked only those two here. They always have to mess everything up… It's not that they're some kind of rivals for me, no kidding! It's just that I don't need such a wayward company. I hope I'd manage to pass them by stealthily.

Too bad.

'We know you're there!', Lok shouts, turning around with Sophie to the opposite direction.

I'd love to see their faces when Gareon appears in front of them! Shame they're turned away from me. Shame they are here, at all. Well, nothing to do with that.

'Oh, do you know?', I emerge from the shadow, catching their attention. 'I think someone needs to work on your sense of direction…', I add acrimoniously, calling Gareon back to the amulet.

'What're you doing here?', Lok wonders out loud.

'That's what I'd like to know', Sophie joins in suspiciously, crossing her arms and scowling at me.

'This house and its treasure is what I came to Vienna for', I explain. 'Guess the Organization did, too.'

'What a strange coincidence…', Sophie throws bitingly, smirking with the corner of her mouth.

'Now look, just bec…', I begin sharply 'cause those never-ending remarks start to piss me off. Did they really urge to screw my mood up?! It's not enough that I'm parading in uncomfortable panties in vain, do they really have to add to it?!

'I know how much you like disliking each other', Lok interrupts me quickly, 'but we need to get to the Titan before the bad guys do!'

'Ay, we need to get moving!', Cherit supports him.

I think I preferred when we were bossed around by that shabby imbecile. I handled it better than the instructions of the fifteen-years-old whipster who don't even know where to lead us, 'cause when he tries, we immediately bump into DeFoe and his jolly team, dressed like Bob the Builder's subordinates!

We glue our bodies to the wall, hoping that he won't notice us in the darkness. No worry, he's too busy staring at some paper to do so.

'They're following a map!', Lok remarks in a piercing whisper.

'That'd explain the knowledge of the maze!', Sophie admits, kneeling down next to her peer.

'Well then, this will lead them to the end!', Cherit joins in.

'Oh yeah', I agree wryly, 'and they'll surely beat us to the Titan, too…'

'But if we can get that map, we'll get there first!', Lok states, loosening a bit when the enemies disappear behind the corner. 'We can't go around them, but… what if we try going OVER them?'

'Over?', I repeat, surprised.

'If you two cause a distraction, Cherit and I will take care of the rest', he assures us in a confident tone. I guess I know that pose from somewhere… What a pity he has to learn from that Italian stuck-up.

However, Dante's plan always worked, until now. Somehow I'm not certain if Lok's ideas would do the job as well… oh, I'll risk. If I can't get both preys at once, I'll have at least one. Klaus will be glad; since I informed him about changing my plans, he has been impatiently waiting for showing him King Basilisk, like a kid before Christmas. But why I'm not as happy, though I have a chance to win a powerful Titan?...

**The same day, 18:30**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

This time the suitcase was two times lighter, but Dante was twice more tired than before, carrying it to the hotel. Earlier he hadn't been afraid to drop it, knowing that it wouldn't have any unpleasant consequences; now the handle was slipping from his hand which was getting sweaty at the mere thought that the content could end up destroyed. He also tried not to arouse suspicions, but he knew that the rare cut of his duster and the bottle-green sunglasses weren't the best camouflage. First, he should have consulted Zhalia about the disguise, he stated, passing by a small coffee house near the Foundation hotel.

Vale stopped suddenly and gazed at the sign. He knitted his brows. Coffee. Zhalia. Some screws in his brain clicked into position and switched off again like a burnt-out bulb, leaving only a feeling that he missed something. It was probably due to the fatigue. He dreamt only about trailing himself along to the hotel, throwing his body onto the bed and making up for the lost hours of the rest, feeling that he fulfilled his duty well. Coffee would completely spoil those plans. He shook his head and went ahead again.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he finally got to the Foundation's safe base. He came up the stairs, found the right room and pressed the handle, expecting it to yield with ease. However, the door was closed. He furrowed his brow, searched into his pocket, found the key, then he unlocked the room and came in. The interior was drown in the darkness, he had to switch the light on not to bump into the furniture; he could walk blindly in his home, but he didn't want to risk in the strange place. In the best case, he would end up with a swollen big toe, in the worst – with broken skull. He needed his head in the full efficiency, as well as the rest of his body – in the city full of Suits, one had to be on guard.

He looked around; the door to every part of the apartment were open, and there wasn't a living soul in any of them. Only the untidy luggage showed that someone was here before. He felt his muscles tensing watchfully again. He judged the situation with the eye of the professional – no signs of a scuffle, just a mess, as if someone had been in a hurry before leaving.

'Seems like I didn't get invited to the party…', he murmured to himself, like always when he had to concentrate and set his thoughts in order; the sound of his own voice helped him keep calm and organize his actions, so without nerves, in a methodical move, he left his precious briefcase on the table and approached Sophie's bag.

'No Cypherdex…', he noticed, looking it up and down, then came to Lok's suitcase. 'No journal…'

He called something back; his photographical memory helped him find new trails. He came back to the living room and there he watched a piece of paper leaning on the top, which he took for a needless scrap before.

'This is the map Zhalia was looking at', he recognized. He studied carefully the crossing lines ending with circles and X-es, then he straightened up and went to the door. 'If it is a party, I'll have to crush it…'

**The same day, 18:41**

**The Basilisk's townhouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

It turns out that my premonitions aren't just some women's exaggeration, just a true intuition. If it's not it, how to explain the fact that I know right from the start that listening to Lok would end up awfully?!

At first everything was going smoothly – we two distracted DeFoe, Lok played with Kipperin, woosh! and he stole map, we made away content with the success, but we didn't celebrate it for too long. Soon, DeFoe's men surrounded us and caught as easily as if we were a group of schoolgirls on the picnic. Sur-f*cking-prise! I'm used to them, but it doesn't mean I like them, dammit! And I especially can't stand wearing handcuffs, being tied tightly like a smoked ham next to two nasty kids by a long-haired freak whom I hate even more than them! Not without my Titans, taken away from me by force! Not surrounded by a group of Suits (who actually changed their usual clothes for yellow overalls, but let the name stay), listening to that maniac! And not before the monster which can turn me into stone in no time!

DeFoe dragged us into a chamber which was marked as the ultimate destination on my map. It's huge, the light of the lamps makes it look yellowish, broken only by the crimson curtain covering half of the wall vis-à-vis the door… and the head of the monument stylized for an enormous reptile. I'm not so willing to check what's behind the drape. Especially keeping in mind all the legends about the basilisks and the power of their stare…

Unluckily, it's not me who directs that performance.

'You two', DeFoe addresses two guardians from next to the wall. 'It's time for the final act!', he announces. 'Draw the curtain.'

I hold back a remark that it's the worst thing they can do. Don't expect me to protect these morons who treat me like an ordinary Foundation scum, though we worked together not so long ago. Two guys fulfill the order quickly.

'Hurry, you fools', DeFoe hurries them despite it.

Oh yeah, faster you do it, faster there will be less of you to beat up. I observe carefully how the guys draw aside the heavy curtain made of red brocade… and suddenly one of them screams hysterically. The other one jumps aside before he gets touched by the stream of purple energy, which actually entwines his pal like a ribbon and freezes into a granite shell.

'Oh my, how tragic', DeFoe comments theatrically, not paying attention to the animal-like panting of the almost-victim, looking at the statue which was his colleague just a moment ago. 'Guess we'll need some more guinea pigs… Luckily the Huntik Foundation has been kind enough to donate a few', he peeks at our compressed trio suggestively.

Oh no, DeFoe. If you endanger me right now, you'll go over the top. I'm already shaking from fury when I see my little Gareon's amulet, glistening to me longingly from the sachet attached to your belt.

'Our little flyboy and the Casterwill brat go first', he appoints.

And that's a very good move. At least you'll leave here with your balls in the right place, not stuffed deeply into your ass.

'You do love puzzles, no?', he reels up to Lok, like a teacher greeting a new charge.

'A-actually, no', Lok stutters, 'I-I'm… good. I don't need a puzzle right now…'

'No choice!', Sophie suggestively points at the Suits guarding them, with their powers ready to use.

The kids approach the sculpture on the shaking legs. Everyone watches the two in tension. No one pays attention to me and Cherit, we're not important. After all, it's not us who give the reason for thrilling bets if we are turned into a pile of junk or not. Very well. The others should buy me some time. It goes fine so far, 'cause they're only standing and gazing at the monument.

'Hurry, children', DeFoe hurries them sweetly.

I hope that they won't repeat their predecessor's mistake and get it that they shouldn't raise their eyes. And call back the childhood stories, in which to defeat the Basilisk, the characters used…

Great, Sophie. A mirror, exactly. I knew you'd be useful after all. Though in the same time you proved my opinion that you're just a shallow doll who just fixes her make-up every few minutes. What normal Seeker carries a make-up case as the basic equipment?!

I rather count on the hairpins. They can be used to pin my hair… or to unlock the handcuffs. This lock isn't very complex. Just one minute more and…

The curtain is drawn aside.

Lok falls onto his knees, covering his face. Next to him Sophie hunches her shoulders, hiding her head between them, and raises her mirror high. I close my eyes, I don't have a clue how far the Basilisk's glare reaches and if he realizes that the closest victims stay unaffected by his power, he won't look for the next ones. So, I don't see, just hear how the statue gets covered in the granite layer and breaks into pieces, when its own ability is used against it. When the parts of the monument fall down, they uncover…

'There's another room!', Lok remarks before he chokes, lifted up by his neck.

'Now that you've done my dirty work', DeFoe pants with hatred, possibly still angry that earlier, during stealing the map, he was tricked by a kid and a small Titan, 'we can pick up where we left off', apart from throttling the boy, he decided to use some power too, which surrounded Lambert's head in a cloud of poisoned smoke.

Oh, I'm not so sure… With the corner of my eye, I notice a glimpse somewhere in the corridor. I turn my head lightly, pretending that I puff off a strand from my face. I see a quick signal made by an open hand. I recognize its shape. For the first time in a while I'm happy to see it, though lately I was dreaming only about biting it off to the elbow. Well, some jerks really have a sense of time.

I start to struggle harder to disturb the Suits. Meanwhile the dark spot slips into the room and prowls under the wall right to DeFoe. The light uncovers a part of the bearded face and the whole silhouette sneaking to the boy's rescue. Despite his eyes watering due to the greenish mist, Lambert also recognizes the familiar figure.

'Don't you get it?!', he chokes out, holding back a cough; he starts to lack air to breathe. 'This is all part of Dante's plan!'

'I'll burn you to ashes for trying such a simple lie twice!', the furious Organization agent growls, doubling the dose of the toxic gas.

'If he's lying, then why am I right behind you?'

DeFoe turns around, shocked. Dante straightens up in the light of the lamps, throwing him a derisive stare. Though his stupid mug looks like a frame from the Frankenstein movies, this show-off hides it perfectly under a cocky face of the eternal lucky guy, who always ACCIDENTALLY drops into the locked townhouse to spoil his enemies' plans IN PASSING.

'No!', the long-haired leader yells, grappling Lok in a nelson hold and drawing out an inseparable ampoule with the poison, which always gets rid of his every unwelcome enemy.

A short whizz and Solwing knocks the phial out of his hand, additionally tearing off the pouch with our amulets from his belt; it lands somewhere in the corner. The long-haired leader grits his teeth, seeing his prizes out of his reach.

'Emerge, Kreutalk!', he shouts, both enraged and scared that his opponent is so close and he stays helpless.

The Titan attacks Solwing out of revenge. However, Dante doesn't intend to limit himself with such a short and ineffective performance.

'Time to clean house', he announces, taking out an amulet. 'Caliban!'

Now DeFoe doesn't stand a chance. Grier sees it as his duty to protect him.

'Suppress him, Breaker!', he orders strictly, resorting to his pet's strength.

Great, everyone's busy now – Dante took Grier for himself, Caliban fights Breaker, Solwing yanks Kreutalk, DeFoe gets under everyone's feet, and the kids, as always, have the easiest task – beating the Suits. So, what's left for me to do?

'Here's when things get interesting', I judge, knocking my guardian off with a single kick, easily as if I was throwing away a creased leaflet advertising a substance healing the hemorrhoids, and shaking off the handcuffs.

I rub my wrists, enjoying my regained freedom with satisfaction, but I don't have much time to triumph. Someone will notice soon that I should be found an activity, and I don't have any minute to spare, not now when the path to King Basilisk lays open in front of me… Shielding myself with Armorbrand, I cross the battlefield. I almost get hit by Kreutalk's tail; it turns around and spits a stream of acid towards me before Solwing draws it aside, tearing it with his claws and fluttering his wings. I manage to avoid the wave of toxicant and in a pretty slip, I get right to the abandoned amulets (polishing the floor with my butt for free). I regain my talismans and stuff them messily into my pocket, leaving only Gareon outside. I feel his rambling energy, trying to find a way out of the narrow prison. I summon him immediately, letting out his gathered anger and loneliness. I let him vent all his happiness from re-bonding on me for some time, but then I break the stream of caresses and give him a task of delivering the rest of the amulets to the others. He listens to me willingly, which I didn't expect from my little crosspatch; apparently he tasted the captivity beside DeFoe and now appreciates my wardship more. There are advantages of this whole mess.

Certain that the other amulets will get to their owners, I can take care of the more urgent matters right now. Making long leaps, I run up the stairs to the podium, then I dash in the corridor leading to the second chamber. Holding on to the wall, I go through the dark passing and finally I stand eye to eye with a statue looking similar to the previous one. I lower my stare automatically, but nothing happens, I don't feel even a slightest touch of power. Is it an another fix? I approach the stone reptile slowly and put my hand onto its muzzle with hesitation. I clench my teeth when a flow of piercing energy goes through me, like repeating bites of the dagger-sharp, poisoned fangs or smacking by a whip-like tail. Ouuuuch, it's certainly not a set-up…

'It's not exactly friendly…', I drawl, a drop of sweat slides to my mouth from the forehead. 'Can I even bond with it?...'

Colorful spots start to glitter under my lids. The pain gets more and more unbearable, hard to endure, sickly, burning like an acid, turning every cell of my body into a lifeless piece of meat, numb… I won't do it, even my blood seems to be freezing… No, I can't, I just have to give up and let someone else take it, I will have to deal with it…

'Caliban!'

Dante's frightened scream shakes the torpor off me. They're losing, I know it. No wonder. Lok had enough from DeFoe, Sophie had to resist King Basilisk, Cherit can't be counted at all, and Dante had been out of form for some days. If I don't do something, who else will?

'Screw you, King Basilisk', I growl from behind my teeth, 'you're going with me and that's it!'

I set my power against the lizard's deadly one, like a wasp which stings despite knowing that it'll die right after. I clench my fingers on the reptile's muzzle, breaking my nails, digging them into my hand… which finally gets filled by an irregular shape, resembling a rough stone in touch.

I open my eyes, observing the amulet without any emotions. I did it. I could do it. Now just don't faint. I have to manage, even if every wave of energy sent by the rebelling Titan, displeased with the imprisonment, hurts and bites. I straighten up slowly. Oh yeah. You're a great actress, Zhalia. You'll be able to play it.

**The same day, 19:01**

**The Basilisk's townhouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

'Now I have you all', DeFoe announced, overjoyed.

Dante looked around at his decimated team. Caliban had come back to the amulet the second before, Sabriel and Kilthane lied on the floor, knocked down by Kreutalk's acid, and they weren't helpful anymore. Lok and Sophie got hemmed in by the Suits. Zhalia's Gareon did as much as giving them back their amulets, 'cause he wasn't able to defend them for long. One blow and he was done. Though the Casterwill girl tried to resort to Icarus' support, he also ended up awfully, hit shortly after the summoning. The brave Solwing kept holding on for the longest time, but eventually even him had to surrender to the Mindrones' domination. They could expect Cherit to get them out of the trouble, even if he gathered all his Titan power…

Dante felt his heart in his throat. Just not now. Not now when in the hotel room, there was a silver suitcase lying safely on the table, hiding the content which could turn out to be salutary. He had to send it to Germany as soon as possible. Without any delay. He couldn't give up now, let all the efforts go to waste… Someone counted on him. There was no option that he could cause a disappointment! But what could he do?!

'Wait!', a clear, female voice rang. 'You still have to deal with me!'

Dante turned around to the podium where the deadly statue had been scaring before, now changed into the miserable wreckage. Among them, with her hand raised and her legs spread a bit, a slender silhouette stood.

'She's bluffing!', the enemy stated, putting into it the whole gathered contempt.

Dante knew where it came from. Zhalia seemed exceptionally petite in the environment where someone visibly voted for the monumentalism to give King Basilisk enough space and to underline his majesty. Besides, she didn't have any weapon, she hadn't called a single Titan, she simply kept still on her position, alone, like an actress on the stage, exposed to the blows; 90% bullets directed towards her would reach their target for sure. What was that girl doing?! Why was she risking so much?! It wouldn't do them credit in any way!

'Look at her, she failed to bond with the Titan!' Even DeFoe noticed her helplessness. 'Grier!', he gave his minion a short signal. The bruiser waved his hand, setting Breaker on the woman.

Dante jerked ahead, seeing the bear coming closer and closer to Zhalia, but he was aware that no matter what he had done, he wouldn't manage to help her in time. Every second was one leap of the Titan, just two more and it would catch its prey, tear her apart in front of the audience, like in some kind of ghastly theatre…

'I wouldn't be so sure!', Zhalia shouted, her eyes brightened like two jewels; Dante recognized the flowing power, usually her irises were simply hazel, never so intensively purple, unearthly, from another world.

'Make them tremble, King Basilisk!', she screamed piercingly in extraordinary voice, ringing under the ceiling like a bell. She raised the amulet high, like an ancient priestess performing a forbidden ritual, summoning the forces which mere mortals couldn't even imagine. Her hair started to flow around her face and twine like glistening snakes, and her whole body emanated such strength and authority that Dante mechanically stepped back, struck by this change. There wasn't a fragile, helpless girl standing on the podium anymore; now it was conquered by the dangerous, powerful beauty, who, using just one command, summoned beside her a huge, skinny, yet muscular reptile with big membrane wings, forked bluish tongue, pointed nut decorated with a crown of gray horns and glowing eyes, fixed greedily on Breaker; suddenly the Titan compared to King Basilisk looked like a teddy.

The bear howled lingeringly when his fur started to get heavy; every hair turned into a stone needle. The roar stopped suddenly when the throat also got filled by the granite. Eventually the Titan fell apart into dust and his energy came back to the amulet hanging down shocked Grier's neck.

'Impossible!', DeFoe choked out, observing the summoned monster with half-opened mouth.

Zhalia just raised her head with dignity, as if she had wanted to say: 'Not quite'. She made a step forward, approaching the Titan's first victim.

'You wouldn't wanna end up like this load junk here, would you?', she asked proudly, lightly tapping the sculpture. 'You have two options: A', she raised her slender index finger, 'turn tail and hope I don't send him after you, or B', she added the middle one, 'the pedestal in the other room gets a lovely new statue…'

DeFoe's face fell. He knew he had no chances – not against the woman whom King Basilisk listened to like a well-trained terrier.

'Until we next meet, Dante Vale, I will think only of your destruction', he hissed, backing slowly not to enrage the reptile, who wagged his tail warningly, like an annoyed cat.

Zhalia observed the escaping enemies emotionlessly, as if she had been above it. She treated King Basilisk – dwarfing her few times, devilishly agile and deadly even when he wasn't moving - as uninhibitedly, as if he mattered to her just a little bit more than a bulging-eyed Chihuahua. The whole team stared at her in disbelief caused by such a daring performance of their comrade.

The woman moved finally. In the twinkling of an eye, King Basilisk changed into a purple ribbon of energy and came back to the amulet. Zhalia brushed the violet gem in the talisman with the tip of her finger. Then she crossed the podium in a dignified pace, like a queen descending among the folks. She came down the first step, placed her foot on the second… Dante couldn't take his eyes off her fluid movements. Every one of them hypnotized with grace and charm.

'Why did you let them go?!', Sophie broke this mystical atmosphere, raising her voice.

Dante knitted his eyebrows a bit, but he didn't stop to watch Zhalia, who stood in the circle as simply as if the hadn't just tamed a bloodthirsty beast.

'She didn't have a choice', he justified her, throwing her a gaze of acknowledgement.

Much to his surprise, she didn't respond to it with aloofness, spite nor coldness. On the contrary, when she gave the stare back, her eyes were exceptionally gentle. Even King Basilisk's glare wouldn't make as big impression on him as Zhalia's eyes did, now normal, without a trace of the power flowing through her body, but bewitching nevertheless. She smiled lightly, gratefully, and Dante, though he didn't understand how he had deserved such a sudden change of her attitude towards him, accepted the smile with happiness and relief, admiring it in silence.

And he would marvel at it longer if Zhalia hadn't faltered, falling ahead inertly.

**The same day, 19:14**

**King Basilisk's townhouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

Those seconds when I fall down seem long like an eternity, but not dragging. The surroundings become a thousand times more fascinating than usual; the colors dance around me, everything blurs, mixes together… For a moment, Cherit's tail grows from Lok's head and Sophie's arm converges with his shoulder. And then everything turns upside down and I don't have strength to keep myself up anymore. Nevermind; I just want to lie down and sleep, I've had enough for today…

When I already prepare for meeting the floor, hoping that for my moonstruck nervous system, it will turn out to be yielding like a quilt, someone catches me by the shoulders and pulls me back not to let me hit my nose against the flooring. I totter a bit, now I've got a feeling that I'll land on my back, but no; I fall onto something similar to a well-pumped mattress – not very soft, but also not too hard, great for a bedding as well as for supporting my withy-frail limbs.

'Summoning a powerful Titan like King Basilisk is exhausting', a gentle voice speaks up above my ear. _Oh yeah, especially right after the period, _it crosses my mind before I realize that the voice belongs to Dante and that something pleasant I lean my back on is his firm, worked-out chest.

'She bluffed?! No way!', Lok doesn't believe it, but I feel admiration in his timbre.

I don't give a thing if I made an impression on them or not, they should just stop blabbering and take me away from here, otherwise I'll go alone… I try to stand up on my own, but my legs fail me. Dante grabs me tight again, this time I fall onto him face ahead, with my nose buried right into his sweater.

'Don't overdo it', he calms me down, supporting me, but the same time not hampering my moves.

'Give it a break, I can do it myself…', I resist gruffly, pushing him away weakly.

'Not an option', he responds firmly, embracing me huskily.

'Maybe you should carry her, Dante?', Lok proposes.

Oh yeah, keep suggesting him such stupid ideas! Dante's about to lift me up, but I manage to hold him back, squeezing my fingers on his shoulder.

'There's no need to', I assure him. 'I'll manage. It's just a temporary vertigo, it won't last long.'

'When you feel faint, it may be too late for us to catch you before you fall down', he states. 'If you're not fine with any other solution, just lean on me.'

The alfa male, damn it. You can repeat something to him over and over and he still has his own point of view. He gently takes my arm, as if he was asking with his every gesture if I don't mind. Alright, alright. Maybe that's better that he doesn't want to allow me to go alone. I let him hold my elbow. Involuntarily, I place my head on his shoulder, just to let it rest a bit. I've still got the rollercoaster circling around it. Maybe it's due to that smell? My nostrils are completely filled by the aroma of the washing powder, which hasn't vanished from Dante's clothes yet. No, it's not intensifying my ailments; on the contrary, it helps me refresh, especially mixed with a hard-to-specify fragrance of manhood. Even if a sourish tone of sweat gets through the combination of shaving foam, shower gel and deodorant, that's… geeez, how nice this shaggy baboon smells…

'We'll be in the hotel in no time', he assures me soothingly, his breath tickles my ear, but I don't even have enough strength to raise my hand and scratch it. 'We're going. Slowly. Don't be afraid, you can count on me.'

'I'm not so sure', I murmur, struggling with my heavy, closing eyelids. I won't confess at any cost that right now I'm completely calm about it. Dante has his highs and lows, but he won't let me break my nut as long as he's nearby. He's just such a helplessly altruistic case.

**The same day, 20:30**

**Huntik Foundation safehouse**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

'This key was in dad's journal…', Lok murmured, turning the item in his hands. 'Why did the Organization have it?'

'Can't be sure', Cherit admitted, also staring at the simple piece of metal. 'Perhaps they were both after the same treasure...'

'You don't think my dad worked for the Professor, do you?', the anxious boy asked.

'Perish the thought!', the Titan reproached him categorically. 'Your father was a part of the Huntik Foundation, you must never forget that!'

'He's right', Dante joined in, raising his stare from above Eathon's journal he had been skimming through. 'Your father was a good man.'

'Yeah, but…', Lambert hesitated, 'he had so many secrets… I don't know what to believe in anymore…', he confessed outright, 'or even who…'

Dante peeked at him askance and started soothingly:

'As far as I know, your father was completely loyal to the Foundation. However, as you remarked, he concealed too many things to make me stick my neck out for him. But remember that even the best ones have a bad day at times, still, it doesn't mean that one mistake writes them off. Sometimes they just don't want their precious people to worry like they do.'

The boy nodded few times, but he didn't seem completely convinced. Dante wanted to say something which would calm him down, but he couldn't find suitable words. Unless they discovered the truth, Eathon's motives would still be arousing new doubts and anxiety. The only thing he could do was doing his best to find Lambert and give him a chance to explain everything to his son and the Foundation on his own. Empty consolations were needless, especially because he wasn't a person who should say them. He would love to believe in his assurances himself, right now when he felt bad with his own inadvertence and wanted to have a slight of hope for forgiveness.

He already understood why Zhalia had changed her attitude towards him so drastically last days and he couldn't believe that earlier he completely ignored her allusions and obvious clues. How did this happen that he had forgotten about their appointment?! He had been supposed to write it down in his schedule, adjust some reminder in his cellphone, and it turned out that it vanished from his head totally… It was simply unbelievable. No matter how busy he had been, he had always been trying to keep the imposed commitments or at least move them to another date if need be, but he probably had never ignored someone so absolutely and ostentatiously, like he accidentally did to Zhalia. No wonder she was furious. She had the right to.

He just couldn't come to terms with the way it happened. After all, when he had come back from Iceland, he even wondered how the meeting would go, how he should treat his guest, what new things he would learn about her, if their talk would be as smooth and entertaining as until then when they had been left alone… Those pleasant thoughts helped him ease the fears focused on the weekend trip. However, later everything had crushed…

He sighed, rubbing his lids. Reproaching himself for his own stupidity only increased his tiredness, but he knew that stings of remorse wouldn't let him fall asleep. He couldn't forgive himself that he had paid Zhalia off like that, after her sacrifice. She was incredible today… She saved them all again, risking her health, and maybe even life. Summoning King Basilisk, she exhausted herself totally, and she still mustered up enough strength to trick the Organization. She played a tough one though a moment later she was on the verge of fainting…

He felt a light shiver coming down his spine remembering the smell of her hair when she leaned her head on his shoulder; with every step they had taken, he felt a fleeting touch of her breast on his arm and her hip brushing his loin. It hadn't been unpleasant, though… Dante was a Seeker, but it didn't mean he stopped being a man; he noticed attractive women at once. And, as Guggenheim said, Zhalia was one of them. Yeah, definitely.

It would be such a shame to lose contact with her due to a silly misunderstanding…

He should have done something about it, and quick. The longer he delayed dealing with this problem, the bigger it was getting and harder it would be to solve it later.

He straightened up, put the journal onto the table and crossed the room. Lok raised his head, following him with his eyes.

'Where're you going?', he got curious.

'I'll be back in a moment', he responded evasively, then, after a short hesitation, he threw above his shoulder: 'Fancy drinking something?'

**The same day, 20:42**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

'**The Spittelberg'**

**Vienna, Austria**

'_I knew you would do it, Zhalia', _Klaus praises me with such an enthusiasm that I barely recognize his hoarse voice.

His joy doesn't rub on me; my headache is too ruthless to let me jump happily to the ceiling.

'Yeah', I just murmur, emotionlessly observing the amulet laying on the bedside cabinet. 'At least that.'

'_It is just a matter of time', _he cheers me up exceptionally kindly, as if he didn't scorn me like hell for the delay few days ago. '_No one can resist you. Even King Basilisk himself. It is more important than this Vale guy, is it not?'_

I stay silent; I'm a bit surprised by Klaus' sudden change, and what's more – his question doesn't need a comment, it's so obvious to like having King Basilisk more than anything else, I don't have to say it out loud. Or maybe I just don't want to admit that King Basilisk's acceptance doesn't adulate me as much when Dante Vale, despite all my efforts, doesn't pay attention to me at all?...

I twitch hearing that someone quietly knocks to the door twice.

'Zhalia?', a male baritone speaks up from behind them. 'Are you asleep?'

'No!', I respond quickly in a shout, almost dropping my cell; damn, how long was he standing here?! How much did he hear?!

'_No?', _Klaus repeats, stunned_. 'What is the meaning of this?!'_

'That wasn't to you', I hiss and disconnect before he manages to choke out anything more.

Just in time; Dante's head appears in the slit between the door and its frame.

'Can I come in?', he asks cautiously.

'If you have to', I murmur unfriendly; first, I dream only about sleeping, and second, if I wanted a company, I'd rather get locked in a cage with Breaker than chatter with this moron.

'I've got something to pay my way into here', he announces (why he seems confused to me? I'm still dressed). To confirm it, he raises a squat mug.

'What's that?', I wonder; is he planning to poison me?

'Tea', he responds. 'A great choice if you're supposed to fall asleep quickly.'

'Right', I admit under my breath, surprised by his gesture. Why did it come over him right now? He's got so many other things to do, for example reading the journal with Lok or examining the found key. I have already seen that the talk with me must lose against his various duties, and I didn't even expect it. I guess it also explains why I didn't give him a roasting at once. A killing migraine may be my another justification.

Dante, encouraged by my submission, slips inside and closes the door.

'Better wait until it gets a bit colder', he advises me, putting the steaming mug onto the table. 'I didn't sweeten it, but if you'd like, I can bring you a sugar bowl. There's no lemon, though.'

'No problem', I respond, a bit disconcerted by his unexpected kindness. 'I drink it bitter, without any additives. I hate it when the pips fall into it', I add incoherently. What shit do I talk? I haven't drunk anything yet and I'm already blabbering as if I was tipsy.

He nods, either 'cause he thought so or to signal that he acknowledged it for the future. Leaving the 'parcel' on the table, he doesn't have anything to do with his hands, so at first he slips them into his pockets, after that, realizing it's not very cultured, he draws them out, leans them on the top, then hangs them loose by his sides again. The minutes passes, I just look at my hands; on the palms, there are some red traces left by the sharp edges of the amulet nailing into my skin. What, are you expecting me to offer you a seat? Get lost, loser. You will stand up for some time, so you will become discouraged sooner and leave me alone, finally letting me rest after I saved your ass another time.

'I know I promised you some coffee', he says eventually.

Putting all the willpower into it, I manage not to raise my head. He remembered? So what was the whole tomfoolery for? What's going on? On the outside, I still stay unmoved, though I'm boiling from curiosity within.

'I'm sorry, Zhalia', he continues, apparently embarrassed. 'For everything.'

'Oh no, an ordinary operative shouldn't be offended that she was ignored by a superstar', I throw wryly, focusing on one of the semicircular spots next to my thumb.

'That's not it', Dante excuses himself. 'It was not my intention to ignore you. It's just… I've got a really tough weekend.'

'Everyone has a worse day', I scorn him. 'But you could at least call me, send a text. And you didn't even have enough manners to contact me.'

'I forgot', he confesses with a suicidal frankness.

'Oh, right', I smirk bitterly when my opinion about men's honor gets proved. 'So many banquets, interviews… Who would remember about a meeting with one plain agent?'

Dante finally gives up; he heaves a sigh. I'm surprised by it; he sounds as if something really bothered him. It doesn't suit his usual pose of a smartyass who has a method ready to solve everything. But if he thinks he'll soften me that way…

'Zhalia, listen to me for a while, please', he whispers in a worried voice, full of remorse.

…he succeeds. I won't slap his face; I sit still, pricking my ears.

'If the situation was normal, I wouldn't forget about our meeting for sure', he assures me warmly. 'I'd wait for it impatiently, as it was one of the better things which had happened to me recently. Despite your opinion about me, I'm not a superstar who seeks fame. On the contrary, I cling to stay the most ordinary of the guys. But… as you probably guessed, my situation isn't normal', he continues even more gloomily. 'I've got some serious personal troubles now. I don't mean huge unpaid loan, an annoying scuffle with my neighbor or anything like that. I'd rather not dig into it deeper…'

'So why are you telling me all of this?', I shrug; if you want to grumble, find yourself a psychologist's couch.

'Because you must know that I wouldn't give up the meeting with you for some trifle', he says sincerely.

I raise a shocked stare at him. He looks at me solemnly, his face is so serious, as if he robbed, beat and affronted me rather than forgot about one date. It just makes the signs of his tiredness worse. I should be happy that I'm not the only one who resembles a minced meat, but… actually, I feel pity for him. Just a bit. A tiny one.

Big enough to turn my head aside with embarrassment and throw in a excessively light voice:

'It's alright. Don't bother. What's over is over.'

'I wouldn't want it to end up like this', he shakes his head. 'If you give me one more chance… I promise I won't blow it again.'

We both fell silent. It gets embarrassing; only the clock ticks in the hall, as if it urged me to say something finally. But what? _Yeah, Dante, let's go out somewhere, maybe even tomorrow! _No. I know Klaus insist on me to speed up, but Dante deserves a punishment. I'm not going to sleep with him a day after he offended me so much. He should put more effort into it if it really means so much to him…

'So?', he says quietly, as if he didn't want to interrupt my cogitation too sharply. 'What is your answer? Would you be so kind to let me make up for my blunder?'

His expectancy fills the whole room. Though I don't see him, I bet he's observing at me. I almost feel his hopeful gaze piercing me from a distance. I move my shoulders when a prickle caused by this percept leaves goosebumps on the back of my neck.

'I'll think about it', I respond, but those words aren't replete with as much haughtiness as I expected. Perhaps I'm really out of shape…

I budge when his auburn-haired nut springs up before me.

'You should drink it and go to sleep', he states gently, squatting and reaching the mug out to me.

His face is right in front of mine now. There's no chance for me not to look at it; though I try to avoid at any cost, it's impossible. Finally I give up and raise my stare, as tough as I can muster, given my poor condition.

It's too less to set it against the magnetism of his glare. Only now, when we're just several centimeters apart, I notice that his eyes aren't exactly brown. Rather… golden. Amber. Like Solwing's, just milder. Warm. They go through me to the core, but it's not horrible. It arouses a tickle in my belly… which bothers me a bit, though.

I examine him attentively. He's still got a tired expression, but… it gives him some kind of a Texas Ranger charm; as if he was always on the run, always needed and ready to come to the rescue even at 3 a.m. He's got quite a handsome yap, even with the beard. One of the better specimens I've ever received… And those hands of his, so big and strong… Guys with hands like those just have to be amazing lovers, it's not possible that such fingers wouldn't know the caresses which make a woman boil inside. I imagine the touch of his rough fingertips on my back and a shiver shoots through me…

What am I thinking about?! I must be really sex-starving if I dream about having the guy, who can play in _The_ _Walking Dead, _took my trousers off… with his teeth best. That's all because of my recent period, I'm always horny like hell right after, and I didn't have a chance to relieve myself lately… I'd probably pounce even at Freddy Krueger if he was around.

I quickly reach my hands out to take the mug; I almost drop it when it turns out to be terribly hot. I cover my hands with the sleeves and catch like that; way better. And now I have something to make myself busy instead of gaping at Dante like a halfwit. Of two evils, it's better for me to look at the reddish tea. I take a sip. Wonderful. Exactly the way I like it, if I decide to make it replace coffee.

'It's great', I murmur.

'I'm glad', he says and in fact sounds as if hearing it was a real pleasure for him. 'Finish it and sleep. You're exhausted. I won't bother you anymore.'

He stands up, sweeping the floor with his cloak. I fix my eyes at the tail of the brown material. _Just don't look at him. Don't look and everything will be fine. He'll leave in a moment and you'll calm down._

Suddenly he stops and looks at me above his shoulder. He opens his mouth; I beg him to change his mind and just leave.

'Zhalia… Thank you.'

I have to clench my hands on the mug not to let them tremble from emotions.

'Why?', I whisper. 'I didn't do anything.'

'You did', he says. 'And I'm not talking only about scaring away the Organization. I… I'm grateful that you didn't strike me off. It means a lot for me. I'll try to make up for it somehow.'

He's about to go outside, as if he judged that he had already said too much. But, hell…

'Dante!', it comes out from my mouth before I bit my tongue.

He turns away to me, surprised.

'I…', I choke out and stop short. What do I want from him?

_I want to bang him. Here and now. I've delayed it for too long._

I shake my head, angry with my organism. The end of the menstruation and the adrenaline after fighting both the Organization and King Basilisk's power really messed it up… I shouldn't be so impatient. After all, a quickie with a victim is never a satisfying one, even if it presages well at the beginning.

'You know, if I had been there on my own, I wouldn't have managed', I utter. 'But… you got me out of there, took me here, and helped me not to trip over… and then made me some tea… and even told me about your problems, though you didn't have to…', I flounder like an idiot, 'I… oh, well… just… thanks', I mumble finally, feeling stupid, weak and shameful. Who am I to say such bollocks to a guy who will plead for MY mercy soon?

He just smiles lightly, and the tremor in the depths of my abdomen only burgeons, gets almost painful…

'Goodnight, Zhalia', he whispers softly before he leaves me on my own. Dumbstruck, with a stunned face and a distracting, tickly thirst which can't be slaked even by a half-full mug of tea, slowly getting cooler and cooler on my lap.


	11. Chapter 11: Chasing The Butterfly

**Hi guys!  
**

This time I'm making some changes. I upload just a half of the chapter, and the other half will appear this or the next week, it depends on how much spare time I will have. I hope it suits you. I know it will take more effort from you - you know, with checking if the final part appeared already or not - but I believe you won't give up on the story just because of that. After all, I gave you the promised date! And it'll only get more spicy...

So, time for comments!

- Kimberly: You're first again, I really appreciate it! :D I also wish I could help Straffi with Huntik storyline, I'll certainly add some new things to the plot and of course I'd throw as many DanteXZhalia moments as I could ;) I can't believe Huntik is focused on little boys, with such a great and complex pairing there...  
No, I don't live in English-speaking country. I'm Polish and, though we learn English here, we don't usually use it in everyday life. Just when talking to foreigners :) But I try to improve my English every day, reading, writing, chattering with friends from different countries.

- Jess: Oh my, you're making me blush again! It's so nice to read that I'm a talented writer! It gives me pleasant chills and keeps me going :D I'm also happy to know that my story makes you so amused, that's why there's a lot of humour in it, but... there will be more sad parts, even in that chapter...

- StarTime101: Hi there and thanks for the feedback ;) I'm glad you like my story and decided to comment - for the second time, I guess... Keep writing to me and reading the chapters, I'll enjoy every word from you :)

- Guest: Could you please write your name or nickname if you come back? I'd like to know who you are :) And thanks for your nice words - it's good to know that more people start to read my story.

- Joey8: Another new person, hi! Your comment was very cheering up, though I'd like to know what mistakes I make. I wrote before that you can always point them out to me. So don't hesitate and do that if it's needed! :)

- purplecatgarden & silentwhisperfillstheair: Welcome here and stay a bit longer, maybe give me a word? :)

I'm in a hurry again, so, let me just say: ENJOY! And write what you think about getting the half of the chapter.

**EDIT, 11.11.2012**

Hi again!

So, I finally translated the second part. It took me some time (you know, learning kanji signs and stuff takes many hours!), but I hope it was worth it.

I see that most of you guys responded positively to having just a part of the chapter. Thanks for your understanding!

- Joey8: Wow, I'm sooo happy you praised me! I like my story, but I don't think about it as a mastery or an example for cartoon creators, though I sometimes think it would be nice to have an opportunity to change the plot the way I would like.

Thank you also for correcting my mistakes. It always helps me improve my story. I hope that everyone of you will remember to point the flaws to me without hesitation. A constructive critique is always welcome.

To be honest, I have always thought that Dante should have some habit. Funny, but charming as well. And since nothing else seemed suitable, I associated him with cuisine :) He's Italian, after all. I see Italian people as ones who like eating, cooking and food in general. You know, pasta, pizza... *.*

Well, I thought that 'nut' is an English colloquialism for head as well... I heard about it reffering to male organs, but I found in some web dictionary that it can be used the other way. But you can never be sure with the Internet. So, could you tell me please what are the colloquial words for 'head' in English? I will try to change it in the chapters.

- Kimberly: I'm blushing again ^^ I didn't know you check the story every day! It made my day! However, I advise you not to use translators. I have always fought against them, they aren't precise at all and make mistakes even in simple sentences. But I'm not angry with you, of course not! It's nice to know that someone waits impatiently for the next chapter. I hope that Zhalia's wavering feelings won't disappoint you.

- Jess: Oh, you know, I don't really like following the eps... I am proud of myself when I stuff my ideas into them and they suit nicely, but there's not much space for my imagination. I prefer adding my own scenes, so I thought: why not make a whole original chapter? I guess it turned out quite well. Especially because I gave you a lot of Dante/Zhalia interactions :D

Well, I have a feeling that Zhalia is cool only on the outside and she's boiling hot within ;P You see, she always knows how to lure men with her looks, words and gestures. She doesn't have to do much to be appealing for them. I guess they just feel the fire inside her and it draws them closer. _Like a moth into a flame_, as Daughtry sang in _Break The Spell_. She just keeps her perverted self caged to be seen as an elegant lady...

- CindyKayla: I will respond to you in this chapter, though you commented the tenth one. What did you mean by IC? You know what? I was also spazzing over it, I love making Zhalia confused by her own feelings :D

Now it's a time for the sadder half. I'm pleased with it, but it was kinda hard to write to make it convincing. I'm not really good in those kind of parts - when the two heroes just start to like each other. I hope it wasn't too cheesy for two adults like them. But if it is, please tell me. I'd like to know what you think about it.

Enjoy and see you soon!

Sha

P.S. Have I mentioned that I made Dante and Zhalia go on a date on my birthday, 30th June? I know I'm freakingly vain ;)

* * *

**30th June 2009, Tuesday, 0:17**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Spittelberg**

**Vienna, Austria**

It's already long after the midnight and I'm still laying with my eyes fixed onto the ceiling, so fair in the darkness. I wriggle here and there, I can't find the position which would suit me. I can't sleep though I feel sand under my eyelids, burning unbearably in the corners, as if glowing ash got stuck in them. Where did the feeling disappear, the one that when I just lay my head on the pillow, I'll sleep for at least four days? Now, when there's such an opportunity, my brain doesn't want to switch off. That damn clock in the hall could stop finally. Its monotonous ticking sounds like a machine gun burst… My nut's aching like hell and it only makes it worse. The situation doesn't get better thanks to the voices behind the wall, either; for several minutes, a softened woman's giggle has ringed there, mixed with a sexy male baritone from time to time. Damn, someone has to have a great time together…

I had similar plans for tonight, too. But who else cared? It takes two to tango, and the second part of the tandem read my suggestions wrong and from the whole packet I supposed him to give me, he served me just a cup of tea. A hot drink instead of a hot night? Thanks a lot, I'm not buying it. As well as the free porn showing added to it, with turned-off vision, but doubled sound, as if someone wanted to oppress me even more…

Is that some kind of the environment pressure (read: the neighbors from the next room, engaged heavily in providing sensations for each other and me by the way) or just my personal trouble that I also want a guy? I still feel the tension in the pit of my stomach, weaker, but distinct enough not to let me ignore it and just fall asleep. Counting sheep doesn't help for an ordinary women's horniness…

Not having anything better to do (and trying to dissociate from the amorous trills from behind the wall), my mind clutches at some stupid wondering, for example the ridiculous, auburn strand, sticking out on the top of the head, or the honey-colored border around the expressive, dark irises. Why did I memorize such nonsenses? Our stares had met for so short, less than a few second, maybe a little longer than a breath, but not long enough to suppose that I'd make such a careful analysis. I had a chance to notice many other, less appealing details, for example a hair sticking out his nostril or unsightly bristle piercing through the skin on chin and around the mouth. Those are the things I should focus on. I can't forget that he's just my victim. An interesting specimen? Kheh! If he really was such a nature's prodigy, he wouldn't have bags under his eyes and a shallow wrinkle on his forehead, his lips also wouldn't be parched and shriveled like a dried plum. I'm sure I have a better taste, I don't fancy such losers…

Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. After all, he's not so disgusting that if we shipwrecked on the desert island, I'd choose a palm tree instead of him. Besides – it's just sex without any obligations, on my terms. Even if he saw it as a proof of his questionable sex appeal, some kind of victory, in the final analysis he will get only a fleeting moment of an empty pleasure. It's me who'd laugh last. I can give him my body, but he won't manage to steal anything else. Those fantasies are also just a temporary weakness, for want of anything better. When my mission ends, I won't even remember about them for sure, I'd even laugh off the idea that I could wait for a moment when Vale's dicky-bird finds my hollow...

Suddenly the room gets filled with a quiet beep and a cold glow. I turn my head aside, peeking at the bed stool; my turned-down phone, vibrating and glinting blue, over and over, hits the mug, emptied from the tea which was supposed to make me fall asleep but instead messed everything up so badly that it caused insomnia…

I grab the phone and open the message (_from: Klaus_).

_Elude the rest tomorrow and visit me in the library. I will wait at 7 a.m. I have to see King Basilisk. _

Easy to say, harder to do. But I think that if I get up early enough, I will manage to sneak out of the hotel and maybe even come back before those dimwits even wake up. So, it's useless to fall asleep now…

The laughter behind the wall gets louder; I conclude that my neighbor hits the homerun tonight…

What a lucky bitch.

**The same day, 8:23**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Spittelberg**

**Vienna, Austria**

Hell, why did I rolled over from side to side the whole night and in the morning, though I knew I had had to get up in a moment, I crashed out?

If not an unvarying, strident thud, encroaching into the pleasure torpor of my moony mind, I'd never wake up from the trance. What woman would voluntarily resign from a dream in which a Ben Affleck-like looker woos her charmingly proposing a candlelit dinner – in the Tropics, on the seashore, suggestively close to the beach hut providing some intimacy? The only crack in this idyllic image is the fact that during the picking-up, the rebel from _Good Will Hunting _wears an oversized, worn-out duster in a very unflattering shade of dog poop…

I jerk up like crazy, cursing when I notice my cellphone vibrating ferociously on the floor; it fell down from the bed stool. Miraculously, the cup balances on its edge, but it can change very quickly. In a rush, first I catch the mug, then dive to the phone rapidly. As it turns out, too rapidly. I hiss from pain and anger when I fall onto my elbows and hit them hard; luckily the quilt, which landed on the floor with the half of me, cushioned my fall a bit. It couldn't make my position less ridiculous, though. My word!, if someone saw me now - my butt stuck out in the baggy, grayish shorts, my undershirt sliding down to my armpits and swinging around my tits, not tamed by the bra, and my body bent strangely, as if I was a novice porn actress trying to turn out sexy in her first take of her debut clip – he'd have great fun.

The cell still flashes in my hand urgently. I answer quickly.

'What's up?', I throw sharply, spitting my hair from my mouth; I don't even have a free hand to brush them aside.

'_It is me who should ask you such questions!_', enraged Klaus responds. '_Where are you? I have been waiting for an hour, and you still are not here! You do not even answer the phone! What does it mean?!_'

Oooops. That's how it ends when instead of having a satisfying quickie in reality, you have to please yourself with dream substitutes, which just can't be brushed aside without regret…

'It was unintentional', I murmur with repentance, pulling myself back onto the bed and putting aside the saved mug. 'I overslept, forgot to turn the alarm on… I'll tell you when I come', I say evasively, rubbing my overstretched back. 'Give me some time.'

'Till nine', he accepts unwillingly, then adds strictly: 'Just do not be late this time.'

He disconnects before I even manage to agree. I puff with discontent and throw the phone onto the mattress. However, I can't get away with my anger just like always. I don't really have anything to boast about to Klaus, except from the new Titan. If I tell him that yesterday thanks to my charm I got only a mug of tea, he'll jeer me for sure, taking it as a joke – he regards my sex appeal as an invincible weapon, it's natural that no one can resist it – after that he'll get stunned, and then… yap, it'll hot up in no time.

Well, it's better to stand his scolding as soon as possible and see the back of it. I stretch smoothly, then drag myself out of the bed. I hit my calf against the frame and almost land on the floor, effing and blinding. I jump to the bathroom on one leg. The mirror greets me with an image right from _The Ring: _my face is almost invisible behind the tousled hair. When I brush them to the back, I state that it was better before – I look horrible, really. Klaus probably won't recognize me and drop dead when he sees me after those few weeks, not as blooming and charming as he expected. Maybe he'll finally stop wondering why Dante doesn't letch after me…

I take the pajama off quickly, meanwhile cleaning my teeth and combing my hair with my fingers. It seems impossible, but in such a hurry I gain a surprising ability to mix the activities which seem infeasible to combine. I'm already late. I resign from the morning shower, grab the underwear, blouse and jeans, put them on; with one hand still stuffed in the sleeve, I paint my lashes and mask the circles under my eyes, just not to scare people away. Now I can show myself to the world without fearing that the kids will start to scream seeing me.

I leave the room, stuffing my cell in the pocket along with some money for the taxi; it's enough, after all, I can't rumble around the town for too long not to let the gang suspect anything. _Yeah, what will I tell them if they ask where I was?, _I wonder, creeping through the hall. I'll have to think about some creative crap… I have some hours.

'Good morning, Zhalia!'

I brake sharply when a burden appears in the open door – a male chest in a skintight black sweater. automatically, I jerk my eyes approximately 20 centimeters up where I meet a sparkling, golden stare. Dante, fully awaken, without obvious signs of exhaustion which stained his face just yesterday, stands in front of me with his hand on the handle, smiling widely. Well, well, someone here's in a very good mood after a morning walk.

'Hi', I respond wryly, sizing him up with my angry glare. Why the hell did he come back just at this moment?! I wanted to sneak out unnoticed… I should get used that he always sprouts out like a jack-in-the-box, when he is least needed. Or, very rarely, when he can really help out.

'You woke up very early', he throws cheerfully, with energy which contrasts clearly with his yesterday inanition. 'I expected you to use the deserved rest for a bit longer.'

'And who's saying that', I murmur under my breath. 'What an early bird you are, you got up like a skylark.'

'I had an important reason', he responds lightly. Yeah, like usually, a million of urgent world problems to solve. What a Batman. I almost start to look him up and down to notice a cap with two ears sticking out of his clothes. 'And you? Where's you rushing?', he asks, not wiping away a beam from his face.

'I've told you I have something to check out in Vienna', I remind him, still a bit chilly, eyeing him suspiciously. Why's he grinning like that? I have a strange feeling that it's connected with my today's attitude of a total scruff. I slide my fingers through my hair nervously, trying to frizz them not to let them resemble a worn-out mop. I should've use the hairbrush before I left. And do a more careful make-up. Too late for such thoughts…

'Too bad I didn't wait', he states, as if he really regretted it. 'We could've gone together.'

'You'd get bored', I throw sparingly; just now, I'd rather resign from company. 'That's some women's stuff.'

He observes me, as if he waited for a longer comment. I don't give any. Then, Dante clears his throat and starts differently:

'Actually, I'd like to have a walk around…'

'You've already had one', I remark, bristling a bit.

'I just found the post office', he shrugs. 'And only thanks to the receptionist's instructions. I don't know Vienna at all', he confesses, a bit embarrassed, like a lad caught on the lack of knowledge about the times table. It's hard to see him with such a face… though it gives him a surprisingly youthful charm.

'You found us somehow yesterday', I state, trying not to succumb to that quaintness. I grew out of the fascination with boys, now I prefer men.

'Uhm, yeah, basing on my scant knowledge and some useful spells', he admits. 'You know, it's not like I'd get lost in the Old Town or don't know where Wiener Prater is', he explains himself, as if I really was interested, 'but it's a snap for any mere tourist who just wants to take a photo in the famous place. On the other hand, I like to know the cities better, reaching their core, discover those sides which aren't shown in the travel agencies' catalogues… Do you understand?'

I nod, not quite getting why he's telling me all of this, though. He dissipates my wonders quickly.

'I think you know Vienna quite well…', he adds suggestively, smiling a little less confidently, but as warmly and invitingly.

'Well enough to organize you a trip?', I guess.

'That's why I really hoped for', he admits honestly. 'Especially that our final goal would be some cozy coffee house in which we could eat breakfast together. And finally drink that promised coffee.'

My heart skips a beat. Mostly because I don't know how to weasel out of it, which stresses me a lot. Klaus will scold me like hell for the delay nevertheless. I can't allow myself to keep him in await for any longer. And taking Dante with me for that lovely meeting doesn't enter the equation…

However… it's also because I call back my night fantasies. And I state that in spite of how I tried to destroy them, they didn't disappear at all. Especially my attempts to cloy Dante in my eyes misfired, compared to the reality; in concert it turns out that all the elements of his face coordinate quite well, despite all the obvious flaws of his looks (from which some disappeared throughout the night, for example the bags and the bristle, and that nose hair could be just a phantasm…)

Shouldn't I visit Klaus with a good explanation of the delay? A date with Dante Vale seems to be a sufficient reason to lose track of time… I'm certain Klaus will think the same. But… what if I'm mistaken? Still indecisive, I hesitate over taking a step. Maybe I should straighten it out? Maybe I should jack it in and fulfill my duties towards Klaus? But that's such a great chance… I take a deep breath and to cut my stinging doubts, I raise my chin defiantly. What will be, will be. And I'll at least drink my morning coffee, without which I don't function normally.

'Alright', I throw almost like a challenge. 'But I'll make you spend your last money.'

Dante beams, I almost feel the enthusiasm coming from him. His smile deepens, spreads to his eyes.

'I hope so', he responds joyfully, giving me way.

**The same day, 8:58**

**Café Bräunerhof**

**Stallburggasse 2**

**Vienna, Austria**

'We're here', Zhalia announced with content.

Dante looked around and thought that the 20 minutes long walk in the tempo dictated by the woman was worth it. The coffee house seemed really cozy, stylish and intriguing, characterized by a classic, a bit old-fashioned charm. The interior, decorated with taste distinctive for most locals of this type, encouraged to come inside, slump into a soft, padded armchair and bury yourself in the morning newspaper. However, in such a heat most clients got wooed by the seats in front of the building. Zhalia also choose the table outside – a bit distant from the center of lively chatters, providing more privacy. She led him there with proficiency, as if she had been visiting this place a dozen times. He barely managed to steal her thunder and pull her chair away. She threw him a surprised, but approving gaze, as if he amazed her by such a nice gesture. Perhaps she didn't expect down-to-earth Seekers to be gentlemen as well. Dante intended to show her that his stickler self during the missions and his behavior in private are two different things.

'How do you like it?', she asked, taking her seat with grace and pointing with her head at the unspecified space around.

So far, he liked the most that he had had such a nice company. However, he couldn't say it out loud not to get exposed to some topper.

'Pleasant', he said laconically, sitting in front of her.

'It is, isn't it? It was Thomas Bernhard's favorite café', Zhalia continued lauding, smoothing her blouse. 'The Austrians call him _Nestbeschmutzer, one who dirties his own nest, _but I'm fond of him; I like people who jumps the gun instead of blabbering what a lovely place their country is… Sorry', she said suddenly, seeing his face. 'I guess I start sounding like Sophie.'

'Not at all', he denied quickly. Even if she did, Dante wouldn't pay attention to it, too preoccupied with observing her.

And the view was really worth praising, though today Zhalia resigned from the determinants of her style – the perfect make-up and faultless hairdo. She brushed away an unruly strand from her forehead with a distinctive gesture, though it came back immediately, and slicked the rest of her hair back. Dante hid a smile which was caused by that move. She repeated it so many times, trying to keep a tight rein on her wild hair, acting in their own way this day… He didn't exactly know why he liked that mess on her head so much, as well as her naturalness and some kind of kittenish nonchalance._ I_n contradistinction to the make-up which was changing her into few years older, killingly precise perfectionist, that carelessness rejuvenated her and added charm, freshness. She looked exactly as she was supposed to – as if she had just gotten up from bed. After a very long, entertaining night which had been too enjoyable to be wasted for sleep while she had had a better alternative…

He was happy that Zhalia didn't have an insight to his naughty thoughts. She possibly wouldn't like that he wondered about her morning absent-mindedness in an erotic way, not even having any premises for that. After all, yesterday she was so exhausted that she hadn't planned any frolics. And with whom? Uhm, he had just one suitable candidate in mind… whose decency he could swear for, though. Even if that guy was actually searching for innuendos in the ordinary rush. And even if such a pretty girl arose dirty fantasies in every grown-up, healthy and vigorous man's head.

'What would you like?', he asked to stop his obscene wonders. 'You were almost running here, as if you were trying to suggest that if you didn't eat something right away, you'd faint on the street. Or that you had a little time for me in your tight schedule…', he added jokingly.

She threw him an attentive gaze and smiled apologetically, seeing that he had only been bantering with her.

'Neither of that', she responded. 'I just like this place.'

'It's visible. Do you often visit it?', he got interested.

'Always when I'm in Vienna.'

'So, how often is it?', he insisted. He saw in her face that she didn't like the question; he almost started to interrogate her. Damned occupational habit.

The awkward silence was interrupted by the cellphone beep; Dante automatically touched his pocket, certain that it was for him, but the ring was unfamiliar. Zhalia quickly reached out to her phone and peeked at the screen. She pursed her lips in a thin line and smacked them with worry, knitting her eyebrows.

'Answer it, don't mind me', he encouraged her.

'It's nothing important', she waved it aside, disconnecting the call. She put the phone on the table. 'So, returning to the topic…'

The cell beeped pressingly again. Zhalia threw it a discontent gaze.

'Seems like a very persistent someone's calling', Dante remarked. 'If you don't answer, he'll interrupt you at least ten times more.'

'Perhaps you're right', she sighed, grabbing the phone helplessly. 'Will you excuse me for a moment?'

'Of course', he said soothingly. 'Just tell me what to order you. When you come back, everything will be there already.'

'Just a cappuccino', she stated.

'Did you really estimate my funds that low?', he joked. 'I'm able to offer you a breakfast.'

'I'm not used to them', she shrugged. 'My whole breakfasts are just a cup of coffee.'

Dante shook his head, not approving of that habit. However, Zhalia didn't see it, as she stared at her cell, still glinting.

'I'll be back in a moment', she assured him. 'It'll take just a sec.'

He nodded. He observed how she maneuvered among the tables, getting out to the empty part of the pavement. She stood next to the concrete post and pressed the phone to her ear. She said something to the receiver – from such a distance, he didn't hear what, reading from lip movements was impossible as well – then she got paralyzed with her lips slightly parted. She shook her head, as if she denied something to her interlocutor. Even from here, there was a visible expression of worry on her face. This conversation apparently wasn't a pleasant one… It looked like an argument, or rather a stream of complaints from the caller, because Zhalia had been silent for few minutes already, hunching her arms and biting her lower lip. She didn't cut back and saddened. But why? Didn't someone like the fact that she was hanging around the streets of Vienna with a guy she barely knew?

He got surprised by such thought. He hadn't wondered before if Zhalia had had anyone. He just regarded it as impossible that someone so busy with Huntik missions could have a love life. He managed to balance it someday, but for some time, he hadn't imagined to reconcile duties with privacy. Maybe Zhalia did? It wouldn't be unbelievable, a girl like her for sure had been easily finding admirers, lured by her glamour… Maybe in the moments which she didn't spend with the group on going through murderous challenges, she was relaxing in someone close's presence? She disappeared without a word so often, not explaining to them where she was going. Probably she protected her intimate space. Or just didn't have anything to boast about…

He looked at her hunched silhouette more carefully. Sadness and stings of remorse were almost steaming from her. She didn't resemble a woman in love, twittering cheerfully to the receiver and beaming with inner light. She looked more like a reproached little girl, with lowered head and one hand placed around the other arm. Her hair had fallen onto her face, but Dante guessed that she didn't have the happiest expression. It contrasted so badly with the self-confident, go-ahead Zhalia he knew…

He almost regretted that he had taken her for this kind of a date. He saw that she had been in hurry. Maybe she had been supposed to meet someone, and he had insisted so much that she hadn't know how to refuse… No, stop. It wasn't Zhalia-like. She handled getting rid of the persistent people with ease. If she had wanted, she'd have put him down in no time. Maybe she didn't really want to fulfill her previous obligations? He had a strange hunch that if she really was in some kind of relationship, it was a completely toxic bond. Otherwise Zhalia wouldn't be so harsh on men. Well, she was harsh on everyone in general, but especially on guys. She reacted so sharply after Dante's last blunder; as if she had already had enough of being let down and that one time had been the last straw that breaks the camel's back, causing her to blast off while she probably didn't have a chance to blow off steam somewhere else, always dissipated, controlled? It was visible with a naked eye that this talk doesn't make her pleased, because she can't even get a word in edgewise, crashed by an avalanche of harsh sentences. So strange. Someone with such an apparition and personality could boldly demand to be carried around in one's arms, however… Dante sighed under his breath. Wasn't there so many such cases; that pretty, sparky girls were wasting beside some thick-skinned brutes who smothered their rich tempers? But those ones were just heroines from some dramatic newspaper articles and guests in the shows about abused victims, strangers. And Dante had a soft spot for this one particular girl…

He sighed again, more heavily. Zhalia had her flaws, but they weren't so serious that a lightly biting tease or a substantive talk wouldn't get rid of them. Stooping to a stream of reproaches wasn't the best way to solve the problem, let alone tightening bonds… He was a poor psychologist, but he knew as much that the women were often more affected by a whisper than a scream.

'Good morning, how can I help you?'

The elegant waiter just like from the pre-war movies appeared next to the table; he seemed only a bit older that Lok, maybe right after the high school. Dante straightened up and looked at him, taking his eyes off Zhalia reluctantly.

'One white tea and one cappuccino please', he responded. He thought for a moment and before the waiter thanked him and left, he added: 'And something what could sweeten this lady's life', he pointed at Zhalia with a move of his head.

The waiter smiled surmisingly.

'Of course', he nodded without unnecessary questions.

Dante gave the smile back, sensing a thread of understanding. He started to believe that something like telepathy existed. Even between men, who, though insensitive for niceties, got easily the meaning of a woman's sad face. And in the blink of an eye took up every actions which could change it.

**The same day, 9:03**

**Café Bräunerhof**

**Stallburggasse 2**

**Wiedeń, Austria**

'Zhalia, it crosses all the borders!'

Klaus' voice trembles from irritation. I have a strange feeling that the jars filling the shelves in his room will break due to the decibels he emits.

'I'm sorry', I throw, feeling uneasy. 'I won't manage to sneak out. They're hard on my heels. Maybe later, when I lose them somehow…'

'You are a master of camouflage', he reminds me strictly. 'You will not tell me that you are not able to outsmart two brats and a Huntik crud…'

'I could do that if I wanted to spoil my precisely prepared cover of the Huntik agent', I respond, trying to sound convincing. 'Otherwise… they'd be rather surprised that I disappear and don't want to tell them why. I'd prefer not to have those intrusive little bastards spying on me, and believe me, they're able to do it. You don't want to have a kindergarten in your library, do you?'

'_I am starting to dislike your indolence_', he ignores my question and goes offensively. '_I praised your professionalism to the Professor, and now you are proving time after time that I exaggerated your opinion! I do not have a clue what is happening to you! Maybe you really are not suitable for that mission and we should send someone else? I just do not know on what position you would end, resigning and at the same time disappointing the Professor, and if you would ever again get a more serious task than making him coffee!'_

I embrace myself with my own arms; though it's hot around, I feel cold.

'Give me a chance', I choke out, licking my lips; I realize that I rip most of the skin off them with my teeth. 'I promise I'll bring him to you soon. Just don't brush me aside.'

'So show us that you really care!', Klaus growls. 'If I don't see it in the upcoming days…'

I wait for the conclusion, but instead, there is a signal of the ended call rings in the receiver. I remind myself of _One Missed Call. _And that's not a pleasant association. After receiving such a call, the phone owner usually died… A shiver comes down my spine.

If Klaus discovers that I lied to him, he'd skin me for sure. After all, I could get rid of Dante somehow and go to the library. But I didn't do that… What came over me? Do I really expect desperately that I'll get some success to boast about to Klaus? That, I don't know, something will happen today?

Still grasping the cell, I turn around, peeking at Dante. He lounges on the chair, but it doesn't look boorishly, rather nonchalantly, with some kind of careless class. He stretched his long legs out, interlaced his fingers together and placed them on his belly. As if he was going to take a nap or pretended to be a philosopher. I smile involuntarily and hide my cell in the pocket, judging that since I've lied already, I should use its advantages well.

When I come back to the table, there's not only a cup of aromatic cappuccino topped with an appetizing, chocolate-spotted foam, but also a piece of Vienna cheesecake, decorated with an elaborate pattern of fondant.

'I thought that I have to sweeten your last bothers somehow', Dante explains, springing up momentarily, as if he didn't resemble lazy Garfield a second ago. He pulls my chair back, embarrassing me for the second time. I'm not handicapped, I can get rid of furniture on my own…

'I don't eat sweets', I burst out truthfully, sitting, though it looks rather like a thrust; I fell down inertly, shocked. What's going on with him today? He doesn't have any qualms to command everyone around every day, scold us when we do bad, play a smartass, communicate with us with a gamut of murmurs when he's not in the mood… and now? Where's that old, pissing-off Dante Vale?

It seems like he's still there, in front of me. Who else would be forced to wear that idiotic duster?!

'Oh', he seems disconcerted, coming back to his seat. 'Is that some kind of resolve or you're just doing it in defiance of me?'

'Don't adulate yourself', I taunt him, regaining my spirit. 'I've just never liked them.'

Really, I don't understand people who can't survive a day without a dose of sugar and so-called endorphins. I'm always getting nauseous when I eat too much sweets, and I can't erase their clammy taste from my mouth for the whole day, even the chewing gum doesn't help. I hate that feeling, so I don't miss chocolate, cakes and candies. I prefer my mental comfort than this chemicals-ridden placebo.

'That's quite an explanation', Dante cheers up a bit. 'I thought that you're tormenting yourself with some kind of a diet, and I'm sturdily against them. I couldn't watch patiently how a woman with such a silhouette starves herself', he adds in passing, playing with his cup's handle.

'Don't you think that if you toady me, I'll forgive you faster', I smirk, though it's nice to know that he shares my opinion about all the sexy curves I can be proud of.

'I'm not going to', he responds lightly, taking a sip of his tea. I'd rather see him with a pitch-black coffee, it's more masculine, but well, what did I expect from an Italian? They just play such testosterone machines. 'I'm just saying how it looks like. Ask whoever you want. Just not another woman, because she could tell you from envy that you should lose some weight, and then you wouldn't let me convince you to taste some of that stunner for sure, am I right?', he guesses.

'I won't nevertheless', I shrug, keeping my word. 'Really. I'm fine with the cappuccino, thanks.'

'Don't do that to me', he begs, tilting his head lightly, and the teenage urchin's charm comes back doubled. He could play a student. 'I love to watch how women eat.'

'I'm starting to regret that I went out with you', I state, though this confession doesn't scare me, on the contrary, I enjoy it. 'Are you a feeders? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend', I add spitefully, hoping that I'll get some info about it from him. 'Anyone would let you fatten her without restraint.'

'Don't make fake assumptions', despite what could appear, he isn't offended, just a bit amused by my remarks. Though he clearly avoids talking about his love life. 'I'm just a stereotypical Italian guy who likes eating and cooking. And I can tempt you without any stings of remorse', he throws gallantly.

'And then, when I won't fit into my trousers, buy me new ones', I smile lightly. Words like 'tempt' start to appear, that's good. Even if they're used only in connection to cuisine.

'At most. Please, Zhalia', he insists, pushing the cake closer to me. 'Just try it.'

It's always harder to refuse when he addresses me by my name. I don't know why then exactly.

'Alright, if you eat the half', I accept, dividing the cake in two fairly. 'I'm taking the fork. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you make a _faux pas_ and eat your piece with the teaspoon', I banter with him.

'Oh yes, because it was exactly what I was worried about', he laughs, following my advice. His eyes are shining, but not to the cake.

I wonder how the cheesecake handles the temperature of his stare and doesn't melt into a pulp. I'm hardly keeping my shape. I feel as if I was in the oven, adding the heat around. What a pity I didn't have time to do a better make-up… I bet that in such a sun, every flaw of my complexion and clods of improperly applied mascara are clearly visible. Damn it. To hide my face and not let Dante observe my shortcomings too closely, I lean over the cake quickly and put a piece into my mouth. Alright, if I have to eat sweets, the Vienna cheesecake is a good choice. Though that fondant is too much.

When I lick the fork, I realize that Dante didn't even taste his half. He just sits and watches me, his face looks either as if he was going to have shits or was amazed by something.

'What're you staring at?', I murmur, swallowing the sweet mass.

'I told you I'm a fetishist', he shrugs.

'And that's why you'll be staring at me till I finish?', I ask, wanting to have it clear.

'I'm sorry, I can't resist it', he smiles charmingly, tapping the teaspoon against the plate lightly. 'I shouldn't have told you about my strange habits. They annoy most of the women.'

'Me too. I can't even eat in peace…', I mumble under my breath, though I don't have enough strength to get pissed the way I should. His stare makes me embarrassed, now when I know what he's looking at. I know it's better than contemplating my clumped mascara and the foundation smeared around the eyes, but… I somehow feel uneasy. I'd prefer him to find another activity and stop following me with his eyes, because it makes my hands shake. I barely raise my cup with them, taking a sip.

That gesture wakes Dante up. He finally takes a nibble of his cake, one, two, three – his half disappears in a thrilling tempo. Well, well, he's got quite an appetite. Lucky men that they can eat as much as they want and don't grow fat folds on their hips. Though such a piece is a one-bite snack for him, not a real meal.

'Can I ask you something?', he speaks up when he doesn't have anything to chew.

'I guess you've already did', I remark in defiance, licking the foam from my lips. 'You've got two chances left, like in the TV quiz.'

'Your hair', he adds shortly.

'Yeah, what's up with it?', I ask, taking another bite of the cheesecake. Strangely, I almost start to like it, and there's so little of the sweet snack left.

'I mean the color', he specifies. 'It's rare to see such a shade. Is it dyed or natural?'

'Natural', I respond automatically, stunned with the empty fork next to my mouth. 'It's always been like that.'

He nods, observing me carefully. I also stare at the strands falling onto my arms, a bit surprised. I didn't suppose that they can catch anyone's attention. They're flat and devilishly hard to keep in shape, completely impervious to styling procedures, and if they're not cut properly, too thick, like a bunch of hemp ropes. And I don't really like that color. On the dye boxes, it's called 'inky black'. It sounds dignified, but looks good only on neat hair, and mine aren't like that. Dante's – of course. I haven't seen a man with such thick, shiny, chestnut-colored hair. They have to be strong and pleasant to touch, especially those right above the back of his neck… That's why I have a hunch that he'll just nod with pity above mine.

'You're incredibly lucky', he speaks up. 'Such hair is one of a kind. It's really beautiful.'

I almost drop the fork onto the ground. My hair – beautiful? That unruly shag? I look at him to make sure he doesn't have vitreous eyes or any other symptoms of a high fever. But no, he's just staring at the sunbeams creating sapphire reflections on the top of my head.

'Don't rush like that, cowboy', I dampen him down, trying to win over my own embarrassment. 'Or I'll think that you're hitting on me…'

He smiles mysteriously, but less confidently.

'I'd rather not add to your troubles with that impatient someone', he points at my phone, laying next to the cup. 'He'd rather not be pleased.'

'Oh no, he wouldn't mind', it comes from my mouth before I think about it. 'I mean…', I flounder, not knowing how to make out of it now. 'That was my best friend', I explain to him, catching the first better idea. 'She thinks again that I need a plan for life. She coshed me an oration, not exactly pleasant for me. She advises me to slow down with the work finally. She stated I focus on the missions more than on myself, and…'

'And perhaps she's partially right', Dante interrupts gently, and his eyes are glistening somewhat brighter than a moment ago. 'Don't you think that we deserve a day off, why not today? We could use it to have a trip around Vienna. That walk was pleasant, but it didn't fulfill my voyager nature…'

Something in me trembles lightly. That's quite a progress. Dante aims to spend this Tuesday with me on his own. How could I miss such a chance?!

I stand up from my chair, gaining his surprised stare.

'Get moving', I throw to him energetically. 'Zhalia Moon Tours company takes you for a crazy rally around Vienna. And doesn't accept a refusal!'

**The same day, 9:49**

**The Stephansplatz**

**Vienna, Austria**

'Can you spill the beans already and tell me what you are planning?', Dante asked for a hundredth time, following Zhalia who was making her way through the crowd. Her quick, distinct steps rang against the pavement, and Dante had a perfect chance to take a look at the enticing swing of her nubile bottom, though he tried not to gape too stridently.

'But why, globetrotter?', Zhalia bantered with him. 'Don't you like surprises?'

'You've got me', he admitted. 'I'm one of those who prefer preparing than awaiting them. Unawareness makes me a bit confused.'

'I've noticed', she stated with amusement. 'Though I thought that someone like you was used to act in stress, improvise…'

_Not when you're distracting me, _Dante confessed just to himself, unable to fight with the temptation to look at the smooth movement of her hips any longer.

That was true, Zhalia's presence affected him strangely. He wanted to show her that he was a cool, interesting guy, meanwhile anything he did turned out to be silly, ridiculous, wanly. Harder he had tried, worse his failure had been. Just like now. It was supposed to be a fully-fledged date, however… he kicked himself due to his trite ideas. Coffee and the cake, for heaven's sake! He sighed silently. _Perhaps I really got out of practice. _A three years long break from any advanced mating dance made him mistake the steps completely…

Zhalia had to regard him as a terrible bore, so she had to take the lead.

'I'd just enjoy that walk better if I knew where we're going', he murmured, but she probably hadn't even heard him. She was making her way through the crowd on the Stephansplatz expertly, looking around. Her head seemed to go round, her hair danced in the air. Exactly like in some shampoo advertisement. However, any hair from TV screen, computer-aided and souped-up, had never made him want to bury his hand into it; any but this, sending inky reflections.

She suddenly stopped, he almost bumped into her back, hitting some guy in a black jacket. He apologized, the guy threw him a gaze hidden by sunglasses, though he paid more attention to Zhalia. Dante couldn't blame him. The woman stood with her hands on her hips and smiled with satisfaction.

'So, we've made it', she stated. 'Our trip starts here.'

'Here?', he got surprised. This place didn't differ much from the other parts of the square they had passed by.

'Uhm', she responded cheerfully, then all of the sudden, she ran across the pedestrian crossing and at the last moment, she jumped right into the closing door of a tram.

Dante stopped dead, not able to believe what had actually happened. Transfixed, he stared at the black and white tram, going away at a snail's pace and carrying away Zhalia, who made her way to the window and waved at him from behind the windowpane.

He grabbed his pocket when his cell rang loudly. He drew it out and answered it.

'_Why're you standing like that?_', the woman's radiant voice spoke. '_Catch the next 105, you have to get to the Hoftburg Palace.'_

'And that's the surprise you've talked about?!', he choked out to the receiver, looking around feverishly to find the mentioned number.

'_There's no better way to get to know the city than wander its streets on your own_', she responded lightly. '_You're in a better situation 'cause I'll be sending you instructions. Like in hare and hounds._'

'I knew you'd get your revenge somehow', he moaned not so manly. 'I apologized, asked you out for coffee…'

She burst into just-a-bit-mean laughter, very pleased with herself.

'_If you score every checkpoint, you'll get a nice prize at the end_', she encouraged him and disconnected before he could even add a single word.

He stared at the cell screen with the information: _Call ended: Zhalia. _Just like that. As if it had been natural to leave him in the strange city and play cat and mouse with him. He chuckled, not knowing what else would fit that situation.

All right. If she wants to entertain herself like that, he will show her that he knows how to play as well. They'll play it her way. Especially because (though he would never admit it) he was burning with curiosity what surprise she had prepared for him. Again, his mind created images which it shouldn't have; Dante shook them off. Though not with as much elan as before…

What a girl, really.

**The same day, 17:28**

**Klaus' Library**

**Vienna, Austria **

I played it wonderfully.

Not only I managed to keep the date with Dante going (though in a bit different, modified and upgraded version), I also have an opportunity to drop in on Klaus and make up for all my delays, telling him about my brilliant idea to lead Mr. Vale astray and crowning that plan, which has to wait for the evening.

I've always knew that despite the lack of a diploma from any school, I'm a genius.

I throw away the box emptied from fries with satisfaction, chewing their poor scraps (surviving the day after eating just a half of the cheesecake and drinking some coffee? Forget it!). Then I look around if no one sees me and go to one of the townhouses, differing from the others just because it looks even older and more neglected. I ignore the knocker with a grinning mug of some exceptionally ugly Cherit's cousin, draw out the key and put it into the keyhole, then unlock the door and come into the dark hall on my tiptoes.

'Boltflare', I whisper; I'm not really eager to walk blindly and break my leg or something, you know. Ending the date on the intensive care would be gross.

The golden sphere of light slides from my fingers lazily and hangs up like a candelabra disconnected from the ceiling, letting me look around and observe the old corners. Something runs away from the light with a pitter-patter of small paws. I'd say it's a rat, but it has six legs and believe me, there are way more bizarre creatures in this house than mere rodents. There still is the smell of fustiness, decayed paper eaten by the moths, stink of some chemicals and reek of the mentioned creatures. But I can't hold back a sigh when I get a strange feeling that nothing has changed here since my last visit. I go ahead, lightening my way when coming up the steep stairs, shaking like teeth of a sixty-years-old. The proficiency how to go past the holes in the stairs comes in handy; any other chick in high heels wouldn't manage, I guarantee, but I reach the right, intricately ornamented door in one piece. Another knocker, even more hideous than the previous one. Klaus has a liking to such things; the more monstrous they are, the more honorable place they hold in his collection. I take the handle with two fingers, noticing clammy fingerprints on it, and knock shortly, but loudly.

'Who's there?', Klaus' hoarse voice speaks.

'Zhalia', I respond under my breath.

'Come in', he throws abruptly.

I don't put off and accept the invitation, very profuse as for Klaus. The room which I entered could look airy if not the omnipresent, dark colors, which seem to absorb the space. The ebony furniture looks as if it was carved in rock - due to the dimness created by the heavy, cretonne curtains. On the other hand, the sculptures lingering in the corners, of course made of stone, get some kind of smooth, even slimy and unpleasant shapes. The paneled walls look almost like a cage closing around me, the impression is doubled by the bookcases, adjoining each other to fit in as much of them as possible. The books are filling them in two rows; the first one covers the backs of the second one, despite that, they stand straight and in a compact formation. Sadly, this order is messed up by the volumes piling up on them, sliding down from each other, dispersing into single pages, filled with the thin, spidery handwriting and pictures which anyone normal wouldn't like to watch. However, that study isn't owned by anyone whose photo I'd place under the definition of 'normal', and who actually is showing only a shiny bald top of his head above the back of his armchair, turned away from me.

'I'm here', I announce casually, as if I had just returned from shopping in the nearby supermarket. Well, as you see, I'm not very effusive as well.

The armchair creeks quietly and turns left a bit, letting the person sitting in it come into the circle of light. The brightness of my personal charm sparkles on the glossy sleekness of his skull, flickers shyly in his long hair starting on the occiput (years before dark, now in a very advanced state of going gray), lazily slides down his furrowed, old face, then smoothly reaches that half of his skeletal, sinewy body covered by a maroon shirt and a black vest. The rest – his long, stick-thin legs – is hidden by the desk, but I'm certain that nothing has changed – Klaus is still the same old, spindly, twisted weirdo I left here. And he still needs a monocle to take a closer look on me. The round glass twinkles shortly when he raises his head higher.

'Sit down', he shows me the chair in front of his desk with a gesture of his dry hand.

I'd rather choose the wide sofa, soft like a water-bed, on which I'd lounge unceremoniously, with my legs on the headrest and my head buried deeply in the pillow, surrounded by the bookcases like by towers. Every princess needs one. However, I know how Klaus hates desecrating his sanctuary by such informal acts (especially kicking his lair with my dirty boots), and I don't want to wind him up today, I was getting on his nerves the whole morning after all. I obediently sit on the simple chair, which is so old that it probably stood next to the Round Table.

Klaus observes searchingly how I settle on the well-worn, red pillow.

'Are you comfortable?, he asks in a surprisingly sweet voice.

'Not much', I admit honestly. 'But no problem, it's good for the buttocks. At least I won't get the cellulite…'

'So, you found some time', he remarks with the same unnaturally nice voice, interrupting me hastily.

'Yeah, yeah', I throw lightly. 'The brats went about their own business, they're probably having fun in the city now, and Dante… he was taking care of something in the post office, then he was going to get down to Lambert's journ…'

SNAP.

I choke with my own breath and swallow the end of the sentence, falling down onto the floor and holding my face. My cheeks burns as if it was touched by the red-hot iron. Through the tears of pain, I see the armchair pushed away to the wall, which knocked off some books from the windowsill, and the fair legs of Klaus' trousers; him standing above me now. I raise my eyes to him slowly and cringe involuntarily, seeing his stare which should have crushed the monocle, being so hard.

'Do not dare to lie to me again', the old man growls like a furious bullterrier, I see an artery pulsating wildly on his neck.

'What are you talking about?!', I choke out, feeling the skin around my jaw getting swollen.

'You won't manage to sneak out?!', he yells, drops of his saliva sprinkle onto my face. 'They're hard on your heels the whole day?! You'll drop in when they stop spying on you?!'

'But I'm here!', I scream dependently, though it makes my mandible ache more. 'I came! I've got King Basilisk!'

'I should order you to chew his amulet and swallow with all your teeth for every lie you try to feed me with', Klaus drawls icily. He looks as if he had an attack of apoplexy; his wrinkled face is red, swollen, a net of veins is pulsating on his temple. 'My people saw you on Spittelberg while you were chirping with Dante Vale! And it didn't seem like you had been trying to rid yourself off him if you took him onto the Stephansplatz later!'

He takes the wind out of my sails. In fact, I had a hunch that I had seen a Suit… but I ignored it, he disappeared in the crowd so quickly that he could have been taken for a mirage. Meanwhile he was flesh and blood and like a faithful dog, he grassed me up to Klaus, saying that I was hanging around Vienna with Dante. Though he overdid that chirping part… I'm not some f*cking lovey-dovey.

'You wanted it', I whisper; that way speaking isn't so painful. 'You wanted him to lose his head for me. I'm just fulfilling your orders.'

'You are not a high school student to rendezvous anyone! You are not supposed to befriend him, just to seduce him! I guess I do not have to explain it to you! You know exactly how to make it! You proved it many times!'

A shiver of abasement shoots through me. Yes, that's true. I'm not a model of virtues. I had more men than I can count on my fingers. But he shouldn't point it out to me, given that he was the one who arranged the meetings with them. He was putting me up like some kind of commodity, and who wouldn't take an occasion getting into his hands? And what woman would protest against being a nicely wrapped gift, knowing that if she rebelled, she'd find herself out on the street, where she'd have to end up as a girl-to-get, only without the whole luxurious surrounding?

I swallow the tears of pain and humiliation; however, apart from their bitterness in my mouth, I also feel the taste of the cheesecake on my back teeth. So that's the whole sweetness I can have in life? A piece of cake and some short moments of physical pleasure, if I'm lucky enough to have a proper victim who won't treat me like a slice of meat, quickly losing freshness and attractiveness?

No. There's also a honey-colored gleam of Dante's eyes, shining warmly to me above the table… offering me the seat and the cake, complimenting me, looking at me as if… as if he couldn't get enough. The first person who considered my hair beautiful. No one has ever told me that I'm beautiful. That there's anything beautiful in me. They were always announcing that to me by lustful panting into my ear and pushing their hands into my pants. But Dante only stares. He stares and smiles, such a gentle, good smile which I can't understand, but which embarrasses me even more, more than if he suddenly started to touch me up…

'What is holding you back?!', Klaus' voice interrupts that vision sharply, not allowing me to finish the thought; it stops and vanishes. It leaves just a faint, now sourish taste of the cheesecake, which doesn't bring even a bit of sweetness of that memory soothing the pain of my cheek just a moment ago. Now there's only a nondescript blink in the café; another ordinary couple blabbering nonsense in the common rendezvous place… Nothing special, just a short break during my mission, which would end up like always… What differs him from the others, after all? Isn't ruffling his feathers just a sophisticated way to make me more willing to take my clothes off for him? Is it worth resigning from the task which will bring me good fortune and prosperity?

No. The gold of Dante's eyes won't buy me affluence.

'Nothing', I whisper powerlessly to the knot on the panels. 'I'll settle it this evening. This time for sure.'

My voice sounds somehow strange. The quiet splash, caused by the wagging tail of something living in the aquarium next to the wall, seems way more familiar.

'That is good', Klaus speaks up eventually. 'That is very good.'

The crack of his knees also doesn't suit the situation. It's very rare for him to kneel down to me. In fact, he has done it only three time since I know him. He hit me way more often. I twitch when he embraces my shoulders and lifts me up. I hope he didn't feel it. I want to be as cold as a rock for him, not let him know that he injured me in any way, though my cheek still hurts like hell. I won't give him the satisfaction. It doesn't bother me. I'm high above it.

Klaus tenderly brushes my hair away when he examines the swelling.

'It is nothing', he says gently, almost humbly. 'It will disappear without a trace soon. I will take care of it in a moment.'

He goes to his desk, leaving me as I stood – unmoved, stunned, lifeless. I observe emotionlessly how he draws out a swab, soaks it in some bluish liquid and comes to me with the prepared compress. I hiss when he puts it next to the swelling, and I pull back, closing my lids tight. He keeps me in place.

'You know it must go this, sweetheart', he whispers helplessly, placing the compress on the red circle and stroking my hair awkwardly with his hand twisted like a claw.

I nod automatically, like a doll. I feel the tears sneaking out from under my eyelids and sliding through my skin. I know he's not talking about the compress. And I also know that I'm not crying only because it hurts so damn much.

He hasn't called me 'sweetheart' since I turned 13.

**The same day, 21:01**

**Karlsplatz**

**Vienna, Austria**

Dante hadn't experienced such a crazy escapade yet, and he had already go through many extreme trips. He hadn't imagined that seeing Vienna's most famous points in one day was possible, but it had just gotten dark and he had already been in every part of the town. He was certain that taxi drivers were cursing the troublesome tourist, who told them to give him a lift in another direction approximately every hour. However, sometimes following Zhalia's instruction that way was impossible, so he was getting into the trams unceremoniously and jumping off some stops later, forced to make his way through the passengers and landing on the pavement at the last moment, when the vehicle was pulling out.

First, he had to get to the Hofburg Palace. When he had already been here, a bit crumpled due to the crush in the tram, the next hint led him to the Museum of Natural History, where he had spent an hour, waiting for the message which had had to be delivered by a 'loud fellow'. It had turned out that the paper with the tinier was stuck onto the tooth of a reconstructed allosaurus, which was moving and roaring in even amounts of time. When Dante finally had gotten the scrap (though it hadn't been easy to get through a bunch of kids, astonished by the dinosaur), he moved to the Town Hall, and then, making a circle, he had gotten back to the Stephansplatz; The National Opera and Albertina amazed there. Later, probably due to some kind of black magic, he had taken a walk in Belvedere for the second time in two days, but Zhalia hadn't let him rest there. Thanks to the information written cleverly among the children's chalk splotch on the pavement, she had ordered him to find Schonnbrunn. Then he had gotten lost for a while in the local orangery, unable to find any tip despite his detective zest he had been examining the area with. The riddle had been solved when after an hour, Zhalia had sent him a short message: _You deserve a break. You'll be rewarded if you find Karlsplatz on your own._

Breathless, sweating profusely in the June heat and frustrated by her constant runaways, he had been cursing under his breath, however, the chase had woke him up and refreshed him. In a while, he hadn't had an opportunity to forget about all his worries and simply enjoy the weather, the beauty of the city and a crazy pursuit of the girl who had been coming and going, like awill-o'-the-wisp, leading him astray. Faster she had been running away, more he wanted to catch her… He felt like Alice chasing the White Rabbit, who was more similar to a very naughty Playboy bunny, though. Especially when he imagined her lingering, hazel gaze staring at him above her shoulder and luring him: _Come on, chase me! _

So he did. And finally, after so many efforts, he had reached the finish.

Not due to his own swiftness or brains. At some point, he just had had enough of wandering blindly and simply asked some people on the tram stop how he would reach the destination the fastest. Then he had caught the first tram from the long list they advised him, and eventually, after several minutes of coughing and nudging from the other passengers, he had waddled onto the pavement on the Karlsplatz. On the right, he had a high, glass pavilion, on the left a fast food stand, which made his stomach rumble. A square building stuffed between a few similar small shops seemed like an oasis on the desert. Luckily, it didn't turn out to be a mirage, when Dante leaned on the counter with both of his elbows, pushing his head through the narrow window.

'Anything, just quick', he panted, dying from hunger.

A guy bustling about among the pots turned around and smiled mockingly at the sight of his tired face. He reached to his pocket and handed Dante a folded paper towel without a word.

'Thanks', Dante murmured, brushing sweat from his forehead and observing how the guy's yellow T-shirt comes back to the area of the stove.

'A lost tourist, hm?', the boy guessed without any effort; his English, though with a characteristic accent, was quite good. Vale even suspected that the guy may have been some talented student, earning money during his holidays. He got embarrassed a bit that it was so easy to tell that he was confused.

'Yeah', he admitted nevertheless, swallowing his pride.

'There's a lot of them', the boy stated carelessly, preparing something on the table so quickly that Dante didn't see what exactly it was. He just hoped it would be eatable. After a moment, the boy turned around and giving him a considerable hamburger, he leaned on the counter. 'Are you looking for something specific?'

Dante hardly swallowed a huge bite and responded just half-clearly:

'A woman.'

The student seemed to understand it.

'Who don't', he grinned, stopping to chew a gum for a moment. 'Anyone concrete?'

'A brunette, very original hair color', Dante précised between another bites. 'Slender, quite tall, very shapely figure. An olive skin. She wore…', he racked his brain; he wasn't Dior to be confident in clothes matter. He just remembered that she had put on jeans today for sure. Zhalia always wore jeans.

'Enough, that's enough', the boy interrupted him cheerfully. 'You passed the exam. Someone like that was here. Kate Moss in her best years!', he smacked his lips in acclaim, then he continued: 'She said that I'm supposed to pass a message on to some ugly guy in a lame duster. You fit the description', he added bluntly.

'And that description was Zhalia's composition for sure', Dante smiled crookedly, throwing the hamburger tissue to the dustbin nearby. 'What message is it?'

'That your lady is waiting in the pavilion', the student informed him. 'That's it', he pointed at the glass building standing on the other side of the street. 'But seems you're late. Today it's already closed. I'm done as well, there're not many customers now. Only late ones like you', he added.

'Thanks', Dante said gratefully, placing a banknote on the counter. 'Keep the change.'

He turned away and headed towards the pavilion with his hands in his pockets.

'Damn, it was worth staying here after hours!', the boy shouted to his back, probably counting what a high tip he had gotten. 'Good luck! And drop in again!'

Dante smiled to himself and waved, not even turning back. Then, in a flush of enthusiasm, he ran through the pedestrian crossing, though the green light was already twinkling, and managed to jump onto the pavement on the other side of the road before the red one got lightened. He came to the pavilion's door and pulled them _pro forma; _the inscription on them was saying clearly that the attraction was closed at 16:45 from April to October. However, if Zhalia had changed the meeting point, she would have written to him about it for sure… if only it wasn't just a joke and she hadn't been sitting in the hotel for a long time, laughing his naivety off.

He shrugged; if he was already here, it wouldn't hurt to check if he was going here for nothing.

'Farslip', he murmured, putting his finger next to the door; a thread of bright yellow energy slipped into the keyhole, the lock cracked quietly. The handle yielded with ease. Dante looked around if anyone didn't see him and creeped inside like a shadow, almost pinching his duster.

For some time, he was afraid to breathe louder, aware that building like that usually had some kind of alarms and various other ways of protection. However, it seemed that they were switched off when he opened the door without using force. He started to walk the long corridor; his steps rang against the tiles like in a church. He opened another door and walked under a glass dome; moonbeams were coming through it, spreading gentle, silvery light.

It was almost as if he had traveled few thousands of kilometers west in a flick, entering some Southern America jungle. He was surrounded by tropical plants, twining around and creeping up exactly as if they had been growing here for a long time, sowed by exotic birds, not by human hand. He twitched when something brushed against his cheek, like a fleeting touch of a lacy handkerchief. He looked around, but he didn't see anything. He made few steps forward and the feeling that something moved around him increased. Some spots of colors were flashing in the moonlight; they glittered like specks of dust… coming up and down, fluttering their glistening wings…

'Butterflies?', he whispered in awe, raising his head and taking in the amazing view.

Yes, those were butterflies; tiny, rapid shadows, stealing through the leaves, flying right before his face, sitting on the flowers and drinking their juices. For a moment, he felt as if he had been discovering the beauty of the Brazilian back and beyond or sinking into the mysterious depths of Amazonian rainforests again… like in the old days when he had been just a brat, hanging around his carers and absorbing the riches spreading around him greedily…

He stopped dead, unable to make a move, overflowed with a wave of memories which, though sweet, had also developed a bitterish taste lately. However, he forgot about it here. He wanted to think just about those sunny days in the forest asylums of Turkey, the smell of soil there, the aroma of flowers, the puffs of wind ruffling his hair, and falling asleep to the accompaniment of the quiet music of cicadas…

An off-key accord sneaked into the melody of the past; a quick, shallow sob, a breaking sigh.

Dante opened his eyes and abandoned the beneficial pleasure of coming back to the good old days, looking around. Then, he just realized that in one of the convex, stained-glassed windows, on the wide windowsill, a petite silhouette had curled. She seemed very fragile, almost transparent, as if the moonlight had been coming through her slender, hunched back. The light was breaking in her loose, dark hair, decorated by a small wreath made of a twig falling onto her forehead; a white orchid bud faltered at the end of it. And suddenly Dante thought that in any forest on any hemisphere, he had never met such a charming nymph. Even if any nymph had never been modern enough to change her flimsy green tulles for a pair of navy jeans which didn't spoil a tiny bit of her womanly subtleness and grace.

'Zhalia', he said under his breath, and the happiness which had dared to rise in his chest only increased.

She was the one who had led him here, after all. She showed him that extraordinary place which was like an album with old photos, an alley of memories, a time machine, taking him back to the missed land of childhood. That's why he could forget about all the spite she had been treating him with. That's why he was so glad to find her finally, to understand what was the prize she had promised him.

He approached her, stood next to her hideout. She made him a seat without a word, he sat gratefully.

'It's beautiful', he whispered warmly to let her feel honesty in his voice.

She smiled lightly, just with a corner of her mouth.

'I left the best for the final', she responded as quietly; none of them wanted to destroy the mystical aura of that calm refuge. 'Alright, second in my ranking. My undisputedly favorite place is the zoo, but it's besieged by the kids during summer.'

'The zoo?', he was surprised. Liking a zoo didn't fit the mature, reasonable operative. He couldn't imagine her standing next to the cage smelling of monkey fur. She would even talk the parrots to death.

'Uhm', she murmured approvingly, a bit perversely. 'I like to visit the herpetarium.'

'Oh, so that's the way it is', he nodded. It sounded more convincing that raving over the meerkats. Zhalia looked as someone who prefers more rapacious pets, and a boa she could dream about wouldn't have feathers and be easy to twine around her neck without a risk of being choked. It was enough just to look at her Titans – Gareon and King Basilisk belonged to the reptile family for sure.

'It's not bad here, though', she judged. 'I'm picky, but I like it nevertheless, that means something.'

He didn't admit it out of politeness. He took a closer look at her instead. His happiness was fading slowly, forced out by the concern increasing every minute. What had happened to that morning Zhalia, that lively, energetic girl who hadn't needed a ton of make-up and perfect looks to amaze him with her cheerfulness and spontaneity? She had disappeared somewhere, taking away everything charming and appealing and leaving only an empty shell, spirited away. The woman's eyes were fixed on the city lights shining in the distance; the lamps were reflecting in them like a thousand stars. Too clearly. Dante noticed suddenly that her lids were surrounded by reddish spots; an obvious sign that she had cried.

He cupped her chin gently, trying to turn her face to him; she threw him an attentive, frightened glare and yanked aside, involuntarily uncovering her right cheek, hidden behind her hair until now. The right side of her lower jaw was inflamed, swollen; a bruise was ripening on it and even a curtain of strands, quickly brushed back onto its place, couldn't hide it. He raised his hand, lit a flickering flame, wanting to examine it more carefully.

'Bolt…'

'No!', a hoarse yet determined voice interrupted him. 'You'll hurt them…'

With a gesture of her hand, she pointed at the butterflies which would burn in the fire like a piece of paper.

'You've been already hurt by someone', he remarked, still staring at her with anxiety.

'You spend too much time skimming through your files', she smiled patronizingly. 'I just tripped on the pavement, that's all.'

'You know that's how my clients explain themselves at first?', he responded the same way. 'Even those who later cry openly, talking about their abusive lovers.'

Her smile faded like a blown-out match.

'I'm not your client', she reminded him coldly.

'No', he admitted. 'Someone more than that. We're working together, we're partners, you supported me during many dangerous missions, yesterday you rescued us… and now I'm supposed just to watch how you struggle with some personal troubles? Don't expect me to do so.'

Zhalia just curled, bending her knees to her chin; a gesture of a defenseless little girl who tries to cut herself off from the whole world, hide in her small solitary spot and forget about everything evil.

'You didn't run away from a comic', she said very quietly, forgetting to apply the previous haughtiness to her voice. 'Don't play a savior of the aggrieved party.'

'That's not it', he said quickly and stopped. Zhalia looked at him expectantly, as if she also had wanted to know what he meant. He saw her tense muscles, the question in her eyes. How was he supposed to tell her that? That despite his formal words, he had been looking at her not only like a mission comrade for some time? That seeing her so sad, he felt an impulse piercing through him, a desperate need to hug her, simply embrace her and stroke her hair, say that everything would be alright…?

Words failed him; he reached his arms out impulsively, but Zhalia stopped him with a quiet hiss, backing a bit.

'Don't move', she whispered, looking somewhere at his shoulder.

He got stunned, paralyzed, with his hands raised stupidly, then lowered again slowly. He also peeked down, not moving his head, and noticed a greenish shine on the collar of his duster. A small butterfly was opening and joining its wings every half of second, glistening like an emerald. Zhalia took a closer look and an envious expression appeared on her face.

'That's not fair', she murmured. 'I visit this place regularly and it hasn't happened to me even once. You're here for the first time and they act as if they knew you.'

As if to deny those words, a lone butterfly fluttered above her head, hesitating, then it sat on one dark strand, faltering like some kind of an odd hairpin. She noticed it with the corner of her eye.

'What color is it?', she asked Dante.

Trying to hide his embarrassment caused by the previous failed excess, he observed the brave insect, which was climbing persistently to the white orchid's calyx.

'Dark', he stated. 'Black or brown, with some white on the edges.'

'I knew it', she replied, then she shook her head fiercely, scaring the intruder away. 'There's a superstition', she started, seeing Dante's asking gaze. 'What color will be the first butterfly you see in the spring, that will be your whole year.'

'It's summer already', he remarked gently, treating such superstitions with leniency. 'You must've seen many other butterflies.'

'I don't remember any of them so clearly. Just this one', she insisted, observing the herald of her fate with dislike.

Dante sighed, knowing that there was just one way to convince the woman. He checked if the green trinket was still sitting on his shoulder, then he surrounded it with his hands cautiously, closing it in a loose cage made of his fingers. Then he reached it out to Zhalia.

'Here you go', he said encouragingly, giving her the little butterfly, tickling his hands with its legs. 'You saw it first.'

'Luck isn't something you can relinquish', she smirked wryly.

'But you can always use it to make the others happier', he responded warmly. 'Take some of mine. I have plenty of it. Especially today. That's your merit, so you fully deserve sharing it.'

She raised her eyes at him, still a bit blurred by tears. They seemed so large in this light, darker than usually. Frightened or just surprised? He didn't know. However, he felt her slender fingers trembling when he tried to put the butterfly between them. Her nails scratched the bones on his thumbs when the girl rapidly backed her hands and jumped from the windowsill all of the sudden, startling a bunch of exotic insects.

'Release it', she threw domineeringly, returning to her usual, commanding timbre and walking under the dome in a quick pace.

In the alley of light coming down from the glass roof, she looked like an actress followed by the searchlights; the wings of the butterflies flying here and there played the camera flashes, twirling around like a colorful confetti. Zhalia acted as if she had really tried to turn out well on the photos for some magazine – she brushed her face with an impatient gesture and straightened up, walking proudly and confidently like a model on the catwalk. A highflier would never let herself show weakness when the paparazzi were around, just waiting for her mistakes.

Dante sighed, observing that brave march painfully. Then he looked at his hands and placed them next to his mouth.

'Bring her some happiness, alright?', he whispered; his warm breath stroked the tiny hair on the butterfly's body. 'Don't let her down. You owe your life to her, without it, you would burn in Boltflare's fire. Don't forget about it.'

It felt a bit stupid; talking to some insect, as if it really could have changed anything. He didn't even believe in such superstitions. He shook his head and quickly released his winged prisoner. He watched it fly to the roof, on the background of the bright moon.

'You coming?', Zhalia asked from the distance. 'Hurry up or you'll have to spend the night here! You won't come back on your own, remember!'

It was a bit calming that she had used her usual annoyed voice, but it didn't help him scare away his worries completely. He followed her, though, knowing that she shouldn't be alone. That he didn't want her to be.

_I really wish I could see her smiling more often, _he thought, but he knew that no butterfly could make it happen. It was rather a task he could try to fulfill…

**The same day, 22:29**

**Huntik Foundation Hotel**

**Spittelberg**

**Vienna, Austria**

He didn't dare to asked her about the bruise again.

It was catching his attention like a magnet, though. All his thoughts were focused on it. Any ancient secret had never absorbed him as much as a gloomy mystery of the bluish crescent on Zhalia's cheek, now hidden behind her inky hair from the curious glare of the taxi driver and a few passers-by wandering around Spittelberg at that hour.

Why hadn't he just hugged her? Why hadn't he tried again? Maybe then that burden, which was raising between them every time he tried to get closer to her and understand why she was changing her attitude towards him so often, would disappear? Sometimes he had a feeling that they were on the right path to stop being just acquaintances; and a moment later something happened, pushing them away to the different extremes, so distant that for half an hour, the woman hadn't found any urge to speak just a word.

'Zhalia', he said her name so gently that his breath wouldn't make a leave move.

However, he didn't have time to continue. The driver braked sharply. When the car just stopped next to the Foundation hotel, Zhalia jumped off it rapidly. Dante quickly paid to the taxi driver and followed her, covering her with his duster from the rain and opening the door in front of her. She looked at him; the drops on her cheeks could be only a drizzle because her eyes were already dry.

'Listen…', she started before she came in. 'Let's forget about it, alright? I mean, the overemotional part. And don't tell the kids anything, OK? I don't need their comments.'

'As you wish', he responded, observing her worriedly. 'But you know that if you have any troubles, you can always…'

'I know', she smiled palely to her hands. 'I know. You're just that kind of guy.'

It closed Dante's mouth. He thought intensively what he could add. What was that supposed to mean? What kind of guy he was in her eyes? He wanted to ask, but he was interrupted by the guests coming from the hotel – as it turned out, their next door neighbors. A tall, broad-shouldered man was embracing a long-haired (and long-legged) blonde in the waist, probably expecting them both to fit in the narrow door together. Dante and Zhalia backed, giving them way. The woman threw them a lingering stare and smiled knowingly. Exactly as if she had guessed that they also were a very noisy and playful couple, absorbing everyone around into their erotic life by their loud smooching.

Dante regretted that he didn't know any silent way to signal them: '_No, we're not like that_'. He didn't want anyone to suspect them of romance, it could disparage Zhalia, make her situation worse, especially now when she was dealing with some mysterious troubles.

Zhalia found a speechless way to cut the gossips. She just filled her lips scornfully, making the blonde get embarrassed; hurrying her partner up, she cleared off. Then agent Moon crossed the doorstep and ran up the stairs without any break. Dante caught up with her on the second floor and managed to come into the room before she closed the door. That way, they both faced the two young Seekers, who furrowed their brows at the same time, seeing them.

'Where have you been?!', Sophie burst, leaning to them with her hands akimbo.

'We were looking for you!', Lok joined in, crossing his arms on his chest.

'You didn't even left a scrap of info!', the girl continued.

'We were calling you, any of you didn't answer or write a message!', the boy added.

'We thought that the Suits got you!'

'We were almost preparing the ransom!'

'_I_ did', the Casterwill corrected her pal, accentuating trenchantly who held the fortune.

'Nevermind!', Lok bridled. 'We were worried about you!'

'It's unbelievable you acted so irresponsibly!'

Dante had a stupid feeling that a change of roles occurred – it was him and Zhalia who were supposed to tell the kids off for their recklessness, however, Sophie and Lok treated them like a pair of unreasonable teenagers who had returned from the party too late. What, as Dante stated, was an overreaction…

Luckily Zhalia, like many times this day, knew what to do. Or rather – what to say.

'Oh, f*ck off', she murmured, passing by the youngsters. 'I'm fed up with your row.'

She came into her room, slamming the door behind her violently. The crack of the frame sounded like a gunshot in the evening silence of the hotel.

**The same day, 22:45**

**Huntik Foundation hotel**

**Spittelberg**

**Vienna, Austria**

I couldn't.

I just couldn't.

I know that the atmosphere was perfect – a silent, moonlit evening, a romantic place in which we were alone, smells mixing around us like an aphrodisiac, privacy… Too perfect. I couldn't deny myself just that one amazing, unearthly moment of isolation from the reality, from Klaus' expectations, from my mission; spoil it by pouncing at Dante rapaciously and screw violently until dawn. Not there. That place means too much for me to desecrate it with an empty, meaningless sex.

On the other hand, I couldn't allow myself to have some sensitive, wonderful intimacy, that one which happens only in the books and movies. It would make me fall apart completely. I've gotten too soft already if Klaus had to put me back together in such a drastic way. It might have been that right then, in such a submissive part of the cycle, in such a passive state, I'd take a liking to Dante's caresses. And maybe even a strange thought would appear in my head: that it would be a pity to resign from them just for the Professor's discretion…

Ridiculous, right?

I don't even like him. He's just a puppet in my hands, I'm pulling his strings the way I only want to. And I should do it harder just because he was the one guilty of making me soften like this. And forcing Klaus to hit me. Yes, that's all his fault. And he should regret it.

I want it to happen, but in a different place. Let it be some neglected motel. Or an elevator. Or even a public toilet, a comfort station. It doesn't matter, it should just happen in the environment I wouldn't even like to think about, let alone calling back. I want that act to be disgusting, obscene, bawdy, miserable. Not something I would want to return to. It should outshadow even the charm of this day, humiliate Dante in my eyes, sling mud at him, blend him with those who were earlier, whom I despise so much.

I just don't want to think about his amber eyes, clear, deep and so tender… so worried when he lightly, gently like one of the butterflies floating around us, placed his hand on my chin with a pleasant, friendly gesture…

I simply couldn't have done that. Not when he took pity on me. Sex out of mercy is disparaging.

I will have to lie to Klaus again. And again, risk a slap. Nevermind. It bothers me less than another matter.

Why it's so visible that it's hard? That I'm breaking apart? Even that stupid slut from the next room, who made quite a concert last night, looked at me as if she knew. But she doesn't. No one has a slightest idea. Even Dante. He thinks he solved my mystery, but he's wrong. He lives in a different world, knows nothing about the real life. He sinks in fame, admiration, luxury. He's a Don Kichote who fights windmills but can't even imagine real hardships. How could he know what it is like when you can't manage your ass on your own? When you're just a tool in someone else's hands? A living equivalent of a rubber doll?

I sink onto the floor, leaning on the door, falling onto my butt and hiding my head in my arms.

'It must go this way, Zhalia', I repeat Klaus' words, clenching my teeth and swallowing tears. 'It must…'

Though I have been biting my lower lip till it started to bleed for some time, now I have to bury my face in my elbow; I can't let out the cry which wants to leave my mouth despite all the rubbish I'm trying to make myself believe.


	12. Chapter 12: (Un)deserved Trust

Hi my dear Readers!

Since you gave only positive responds to the idea of updating only the half of the chapter, I decided to repeat that move. I wrote too much to translate it in just one weekend, I'll need some more time to do so. I'm not sure how much, though. I'll be a bit busy this week, and the next one too. But I promise I'll do everything not to let you down.

To sweeten the wait for the other half, I'll answer your comments:

- CindyKayla: Yay, that's great that you praised the part I liked so much! I always like to write about Zhalia and Klaus (of course my favourite thing is Dante-Zhalia relationship, but there must be a break between their interactions, right?), because their bond is so difficult and painful, so bittersweet. Zhalia struggles with her loyalty for Klaus and meeting his exceptations and the mad scientist fights with care for her and carrying out his orders. But they need and cherish each other. I just know it. It's just... hard for someone as emotionally scarred as them to express it.

Yeah, Dante's so helpless when it comes to outgoing women ^^ It makes him a bit shy... He got out of practice, like he said. But he's a man, right? Even if he doesn't express it, he sees women not only like comrades.

I guess the fights in Huntik are very violent to M-rate them ^^ No blood, no ripped flesh, no broken bones... no injuries at all! Only a bandaged head once. The story is M-rated because there's a vulgar language sometimes and I plan to stuff some intimate moments into it...

- Joey8: Glad to know the scene with butterflies turned out well! I was afraid that it might be too gross, sweet, mushy and far-fetched. I tried not to overdo the way they treat each other - like, for example, hugging. I thought that if Dante hugged Zhalia, it'd be unbelievable. She has her highs and lows and may not detest Dante as much as before, but I don't think she would like to be touched by any man right after she was hurt so badly. And Dante isn't that kind of man to force his way towards women. Like you, I think he's too gentle and tactful, respects Zhalia's feelings and understands her behaviour.

Well, since the 'nut' matter isn't settled, I'll leave it like that. If you find something new about it, I'll consider it.

Kanji drills aren't my favourite thing in learning Japanese, but well, that's just the way the studies are :)

- Kimberly: I always wait patiently for reviews, so don't worry :) I just thought I should clear misunderstandings. I know that Klaus doesn't act fine towards Zhalia. But I guess he's not doing that only because he is evil. He's rather... confused. He doesn't know how to make Zhalia listen to him in another way, so he uses violence. It's easiest, but also makes him frustrated, as well as noticing that she's not as obedient as before... He doesn't want her to slide away from his fingers.

- Jess: I'd love to write Huntik scenario along with the original creators! I'd stuff as much DanteXZhalia as possible, but in an interesting way :) And I'd settle the matter with Klaus... it's sad he and Zhalia fell out. I don't blame him for treating her the way he does. I know it's wrong. I know he makes her suffer. But it's not like he really wants it. He just doesn't know what to do. He's not really a best father model... he has to learn a lot.

Honestly? I could keep this half waiting and update the whole chapter at once later. But I miss the pleasant feeling of reading your reviews, of keeping in touch with you. I need your support, especially now. And I'm not going to play a humble one - I love knowing that you like my story. I love realizing that we look at the series in a similar way. And I love spreading Huntik awesomeness!

Thanks a lot for being there for me! Enjoy and check this file because I'll post the second part here!

Sha

**EDIT: 25th November**

Here goes the second part!

I had to relax during memorizing kanjis and decided to translate the rest of the chapter. I want to hurry up so badly, knowing what interesting eps and my ideas wait for me! Just wait for the chapter in the Ireland, kukukuku~! ]:

- Joey8: sorry to disappoint you, but there's not very much of Zhalia/Dante intimacy. You know, with kids around and stuff... But I guess the next chapter (especially its last part) will be fine for you.  
I stuffed the talk between Zhalia and Sophie here because I wanted to show that Zhalia is... a bit jealous! She'd like to be as naive and innocent as Sophie, but she's been through too much to believe in people. Especially in men. But it'll be written in the next chapters, can't specify in which one exactly. I've got just a rough plan of the story.  
- Kimberly: It's not that I hate Sophie, actually... I know I portray her in the way that doesn't make her more likeable, but the truth is, my feelings towards her weren't friendly for the first half of the series. Though I don' really have a character I despise. I think that every one of the bring something fresh and interesting into the story. Just wait for Ryder and Scarlet, they'll mess around a lot ]: I guess most of you will hate Ryder...  
- Jess: Yeah, I think that Dante has some moments when he just has to vent his anger somehow... but he doesn't feel well with being vulgar, so he apologizes right after ^^ And he usually swears in Italian, 'cause less people understand him, so, they don't feel offended by his words.

Yeah, Dante isn't such a fag when it comes to women ^^ I guess he took advantage on his charm and popularity many times... not in a wrong way, of course. He's a grown-up man, after all. It's not like he knew he'd meet Zhalia, so he waited for her crystal-clean, right? He knows what he wants from a woman, and he finds Zhalia attractive both physically and mentally. Even if now he treats it only like a mere flirt, maybe a friendship of sorts, but not a very romantic relationship. He's concerned because he likes her. And feels attracted to her, that's for sure.

As for translating the chapters: it depends. It usually takes one weekend to write and translate them, but not when I'm busy. And I am until Wednesday. You know, first kanji test. Hard luck. Keep your fingers crossed!

Thanks for all the comments! See you soon, I hope, and enjoy the last part!

Sha

* * *

**4th July 2009, Saturday, 9:15**

**Dante's house**

**Venice, Italy**

Cherit looked up anxiously every few minutes, staring at the ceiling which was creaking as if it had been going to collapse. The noises coming from the second floor sounded as if an Irish dance competition had been organized there. Meanwhile the Titan's attention was also caught by the biscuit held in both paws, half-eaten and still luring with its light inside. Torn apart between fear and gluttony, the little fellow decided to get rid at least of one stimulus. And it wasn't the cookie.

'Is it really a good idea to let them train without any supervision?', he wondered out loud, looking at Dante.

The man hadn't even raised his stare from above the holotome; he was clicking on the keyboard doggedly, like a pianist with a fast-running metronome. The device, just like a broken piano, was squealing and beeping. Cherit made an unsatisfied face, not very pleased that his doubts had been ignored for the apparently broken equipment.

'Aren't you worried that Lok and Sophie may get hurt?', he added more loudly, trying to attract Vale's attention.

'They've been training for few days already and got only several bruises. Sparring won't harm them. Harder they damage each other now, faster they'll learn how to avoid that', Dante shrugged, catching his chin and scratching it pensively. He furrowed his brow, observing the info moving across the screen.

'It's not helping Lok', Cherit remarked. 'He's not making any progress. He should learn from Sophie, meanwhile…'

'I don't think it'd work', Dante smirked patronizingly, though he still seemed to be spirited away. 'Not with her attitude focusing on showing off instead of helping him.'

'So, why won't you take care of that yourself?', the Titan wondered.

'First, Lok wouldn't handle my training in that state. He should end up being a couch potato before. Then I'll buckle him down to work.'

'And second?', Cherit crossed his arms on his chest, a little disappointed with that answer.

'Second…', Vale murmured, hitting the keys, 'I am… a bit… busy… now…', he drawled with his fingers dancing on the keyboard. '_Merda!', _he cursed in Italian.

The Titan twitched – though he didn't know the language well, the meaning of that exclamation was too clear. It surprised him even more, coming from the mouth of the cool, cautious man.

Dante realized his gaffe and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

'I'm sorry', he murmured. 'I just need a piece of info', he explained, feeling the Titan's reproaching gaze, 'and that stupid thing is still…', he stopped and hit certain key, looking at the error communiqué on the background of the document with frustration.

'Maybe you should ask Guggenheim?', Cherit suggested, forgiving his friend that previous outburst magnanimously.

The proposition was worth considering.

'I'll try', Vale accepted and was about to stand up to use the bigger LCD screen hanging on the wall, but suddenly it brightened and showed the wide, straightforward face of the Foundation chef.

'Telepathy!', Cherit beamed. 'Dante was about to call you, and here you go! You're a bit similar to the Titans if you can communicate in your heads even from such a distance!'

A smile flickered on Guggenheim's lips when the Swiss heard that conclusion.

'_Talk of the devil and the devil arrives!_', he commented. '_I guess we had the same idea in the same time. I don't know if I should consider it a sign of my intuition or your professionalism, Dante, letting you sense the mission from far away! After all, you're our prodigy for a reason!_'

'I think that it's in vain', Vale threw wryly, 'if after all those years of working hard for Huntik I'm still treated like a mere newbie.'

'What do you mean by that?', the Swiss asked in surprise.

'This', he turned the holotome to Guggenheim and pushed it closer to the screen, showing his friend the banned site. The Swiss squinted his eyes, trying to read the small letters. Dante pushed some button; it caused the holotome to speak with a cool, female voice:

'_Access denied, section: 'Zhalia Moon: current location' unavailable. Too low ID number priority._'

The Swiss raised his eyebrows.

'And what's so startling?', he wondered. 'You don't expect us to allow our operatives, even those pro, to disturb their colleagues' privacy, do you?'

'I just expect to have an opportunity to contact the person who has become a part of my team recently', he responded a bit too sharply.

Even if Guggenheim was shocked by his reaction, he didn't show any signs of it. He just smirked.

'Well, I thought that you took care of it yourself', he murmured with a strange amusement which was accompanying him every time they were talking about Zhalia. 'You have her phone number.'

Vale automatically peeked at the phone laying on the frame of his armchair.

'She's not been answering me for few days', he said impatiently.

That was true. The cell was staying silent stubbornly. And even if it had been speaking, it wasn't the voice Dante had expected. His calls and messages were left unanswered. Zhalia hadn't even forced herself to send him a curt text, just a short, soothing info that she was alive even if she wasn't too fine.

At first he had put that ignorance down to exhaustion and discouragement; after the last vicissitudes the woman had a right not to beam with enthusiasm, especially because the trip back from Vienna passed in quite a tense atmosphere. Sophie had held a grudge against her, offended by the vulgar treatment; Lok hadn't crossed her way, as if she had been something worse than a black cat. Zhalia, apparently running out of words after her blunt performance, had pursed her lips and turned her back to the rest, sensing their unfriendly attitude. Or maybe just hiding her bruised face?

They had parted their ways rather chillily, mostly thanks to agent Moon herself; she had just collected her luggage and catching a random taxi, moved away with a speed of light, not even throwing an ostentatious 'See you'. Dante didn't know if she had wanted to show them her disregard and scorn by that or if she had just wanted to disappear from before their eyes as fast as she could. He hadn't even managed to let out a single word, and the car had vanished at the end of the street, taking Zhalia who knows where.

However, after three days without any news, he stated that it couldn't go any further. Three days without any sign of life should be disturbing even when everything was supposed to go smoothly, and Dante knew already that something in Zhalia's life had gotten messed up terribly. And he didn't want just to wonder if she had already gotten rid of it or if the trouble had overwhelmed her, making her unwilling – or unable?! – to answer the phone. He had to make sure if everything was alright. But how, not having a clue how to contact her in a different way that through the phone?

He needed just an address where he could find her. Every operative had to update that kind of info to let the Foundation locate them easily in the time of need. He had hoped that as a top operative, he would be able to unlock them. Unluckily, he had miscalculated it badly and wasn't going to hide that it had stung him. He didn't expect Huntik to give him special attentions, prepare a red carpet when he was passing by, admiration, waiting on him. After all, he didn't deserve that – he owed to the Foundation as much as it did to him, so they were even. But now he was ready to argue about that one privilege, even if it meant playing a spoiled superstar who wouldn't risk anything without the right payment. Well, some matters needed sacrifices.

Luckily it wasn't one of that cases.

'Oh', the Swiss said in surprise. 'That's a problem. To be honest, I thought that I'd convince her to go as well. That's a really serious mission. You'd need some support.'

He hesitated for a while.

'I guess that in that special case…', he started and stopped, looking for something on his desk. In a second, Dante's holotome beeped quietly. The error communiqué disappeared, uncovering Zhalia's profile with the unlocked address.

'Is that enough?', the Swiss asked.

Vale read the info and nodded. He knew where to look for that hotel.

'Certainly', he responded, satisfied, leaning back to the armchair's headrest and laying on it nonchalantly. 'So… what's the mission?', he asked ostentatiously, putting his legs on the table.

**The same day, 10:30**

**Room 49 in Al Ponte Antico Hotel**

**Venice, Italy**

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

And so on, like a few hundreds of thousands times during last four days.

Surprised that I know?

I haven't had anything better to do apart from listening to the clock's ticking.

Or rather: I convinced myself perfectly that I haven't if I can just bundle under a thick blanket and don't come out until someone forces me to do so.

I took care of having some peace. I reported to Klaus about my last moves towards Dante, embroidering them a bit. The mad scientist swallowed them without suspecting anything, apparently certain that after the 'lesson' he taught me I wouldn't dare to cheat him. Or just thinking that he overdid it last time and giving me some credit as a redress. This or that, now he's convinced that Vale almost whimpers for my attentions, and he doesn't disturb me, sure that I'm using it the right way.

I didn't lie to him completely. There's some truth in it. After all, Dante has been calling me every few hours for three days. The phone felt silent just today morning. Or maybe the battery got empty, don't know. I don't give a damn. I was disconnecting the calls and deleting the texts without reading them nevertheless.

I don't need his f*cking care. I'm not one of his weeping, miserable clients who would sob into his sleeve and stick to him just because he plays a psychologist, therapist, social service worker and policeman at once.

I'm not some emotionally unstable madwoman with an inferiority complex. It's just that sometimes there are days when you don't even want to exist. You just need to wait for them to stop and everything will come back to normal… won't it?

I turn to my right side; Gareon hisses when I crush his tail and peeks at me with reproach. I pull him closer and brush my cheek against his lumpy body. Earlier, when my whole jaw was still aching, the touch of his cold skin was bringing me relief, but now when the swelling disappeared and the pain stopped, I state that a soft, fluffy cat would be better to hug, unlike such a bone-stinging lizard. Though a beautiful Siamese tom would probably die from starvation by my side. How could I remember about feeding it if I skipped the meals myself lately? Gareon wins because he doesn't have to eat.

Suddenly the phone rings. Not mine, the one in the hotel room. Screw yourself. I would have to get up to answer it. I don't feel like. I said I'm not here for anyone. I don't need a cleaning lady. I just need some damned peace. And maybe a bottle of wine. Oh yeah. It'd be nice to be bothered by hangover more than by my thoughts.

The signal stops, then rings again. I try to ignore it, coming back to counting the passing seconds. It doesn't help. I raise on my elbow unwillingly and pull the cable out of the socket with one tug. The irritating beep gets silent. I bundle again, clenching my fists and pressing them to my forehead to make them stop trembling.

The hotel staff, asking about the bedclothes change, calls me more often than my carer, who should be just a bit interested if I still have his 'souvenir' on my face, meanwhile he was fine with the info that I'm acting as a bed heater for his dream victim. Well, even the prey almost storms me with calls, unlike someone who has known me since my childhood and was supposed to care for me more than for his monstrous pets, like stinging slugs and man-eating sundews…

What a farce.

What a tragedy.

But I won't cry because of it, right?...

When the first tear comes out from under my eyelid, someone knocks to the door.

I grit my teeth, chewing the curse in my mouth. The melancholy disappears, replaced by increasing anger. Hell, can't anyone really be alone for a while?! I jump from under the blanket with a panther-like leap and pounce at the door, unlocking them with one move.

'I told you', I growl, opening them rapidly, 'not to let anyone…'

I get flabbergasted in the middle of the sentence; my hand hangs loosely on the handle, my knees fail me. I guess that's because I gave up on breakfast. Or rather, approximately on ten meals. Maybe that's why I have hallucinations. It's impossible that Dante Vale could stand at my door…

Sadly, I comprehend that I haven't know anyone with that eye color until now. And that it has never matched such a lame duster.

'Good morning, Zhalia', Dante smiles hesitantly, looking me up and down.

I realize that his hesitation is justified. My greasy hair probably looks like a stray cat's fur and my tired face without any make-up must've gotten the color of vomit. I'm not sure if this T-shirt is covering my grayish shorts. Additionally, I don't wear a bra. And I'm afraid that it's visible. I cross my arms on my chest to hide it.

'What're you doing here?', I ask with as much dignity as possible despite being well-aware of my abnegation.

'You didn't answer my calls', he remarks, stopping to eye me and focusing on my face. 'I decided to check what's up with you.'

'That's not what I'm asking about', I throw a bit too sharply, trying to hide the fact that this honest declaration made me feel embarrassed. 'I told that receptionist idiot to tell any guests off.'

'I'm a Seeker', he reminds me, as if I didn't know. 'I have my ways to overcome such burdens.'

'Did you Simplemind her?', I interrogate him, not moving from my spot, still with my hand on the handle. I feel an itch to slam the door in front of his face and separate him from me, just not to wonder what he thinks seeing me in such a deplorable condition. But, why does it bother me, anyway?! In fact, I just don't give a shit about his company. He'd better clear off in no time.

'Well, it's not my favorite method, but since I didn't have another choice…', he shrugs, peeking inside the room above my head. 'If you are going to keep me in the hall, too bad I didn't bring a foldaway chair', he throws meaningfully.

I guess I won't manage to kick him out in a cultured way.

'Uh, of course', I correct myself and add reluctantly: 'Come in.'

Dante accepts the invitation gladly. Meanwhile my thoughts fly into a frenzy; they run amok from my oily hair to the bra which in theory should be on my chest, but in practice it changed its location to 'unspecified'. Where did I stuff it!? I must find it quickly, then catch some clothes and sneak out to the bathroom to put myself back together… I won't entertain Mr. Vale in a state of undress. At least not in such a miserable one. Why couldn't he choose a moment when I was stretching out lasciviously in a transparent nightgown?! Hm, maybe because I don't have one, and even if I did, I wouldn't put it on knowing I'm spending the night alone… Only an idiot would torture her with a laced bra in such a case; a normal woman would send it to hell and change it for a less flattering, but way more comfortable cotton one. Or give up on any annoying harness. Which, as seen on my example, isn't always the best idea.

Luckily, Dante looks around the room and doesn't pay attention to my boobs. What, on the other side, is irritating in some way. Does he really prefer the candelabra over my feminine curves?!

'Take a sit', I almost order him. Though I should rather make him sit on the fakir's bed due to his lack of admiration for my body's ups and downs.

'I'd rather resign from that', he turns to me and points at the sofa with a move of his head. Gareon, backing to the corner between the pillows, eyes him menacingly. He bent his back and hisses like an infuriated cat. 'I'm afraid that if I come closer, one of us won't survive that.'

'If it is Gareon, you won't dwell in this world for much longer', I warn him. 'If you hurt him, I'd rip your head off.'

It doesn't mean I won't do it nevertheless.

'Let's just avoid that risk', he responds deftly. 'I'll stand.'

I roll my eyes. It'd look more effectively if they weren't faded and surrounded by bags, and if I accentuated them with seductive make-up earlier. I nod to Gareon, telling him to leave the sofa. He protests, giving out a quiet, angry drone. To convince him, I order him to sink under the furniture and look for my bra. It should keep him busy and get me out of trouble at the same time. There's nothing better than killing two birds with one stone.

'Now you can sit without fearing about your bottom', I remark ostentatiously when the little one disappears under the chest of drawers.

Dante nods and lounges comfortably on the leather upholstery. Someone feels at home here…

'I've got a proposition for you', he announces, getting to the point finally. 'Guggenheim appointed my team to fulfill a mission. We're supposed to find the ship of the Argonauts. I thought that maybe… maybe you'd like to accompany us?', he says less formally. 'Of course if you don't want to, just say it', he adds quickly. 'Maybe… you need more rest… time…'

I know what he wants to ask me about, though he doesn't have enough courage, he can't choose right, gentle and tactful words, like he always manages to do. He has circled around the bruise topic since he arrived. His first stare was directed at my cheek. And his doubts are connected to my mood after the whole accident. He's not sure if I've already pulled myself together.

I'm not as well. But I know that I don't want him to take me for a wimp and a hysteric at any cost.

'Nope', I respond quickly. 'I need to keep my head busy, and that mission is perfect for that.'

He nods, still not taking his eyes off me. His irises are clouded by some strange shadow. Apparently, he's not convinced.

'It's just that… I have to change, get packed', I continue not to give him enough time for protests, questions. 'Uhm… can you give me an hour?', I propose. 'Just tell me where we're going to meet. I'll join you soon.'

'I'll wait for you', he responds calmly.

'You'll get bored', I warn him.

'I'm not a person who can't find himself anything to do', he throws soothingly.

'No one is if he has a cell phone with the newest version of _Snake_', I parry it ironically.

The corner of his mouth trembles, as if he was barely holding back a laughter.

'I'm glad you are willing to joke again', he remarks warmly. 'And that you didn't kick me out. I thought that's exactly what you would after three days of silence. That, I don't know, you didn't want to see me… or something.'

I feel myself tongue-tied. I hate that state.

'I…', I choke out, staring at my hands. 'I overdid it. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I felt down in the dumps. But I shouldn't have given you such a miss. You tried to contact me so many times, I could have just texted you.'

It's stupid. I didn't really want to do so. I didn't… unless he came here. And I realized that I blame myself for ignoring him. He visited me despite my attitude, after all.

'So, the next time', he starts gently, 'just don't keep me in suspense for so much time. Remember that if you stop showing any signs of life, I won't hesitate to visit you again. I guess it should scare you', he says jokingly, then asks in a more serious way: 'Though I hope there won't be any reasons for worrying… that everything turned out fine.'

I turn my head aside. I'm not sure if I can say so. The bruise disappeared, that's true. And if I listen to Klaus, there won't be any swellings more.

'Yeah, everything's alright', I respond cheerfully. 'The bad mood's already gone. I'm ready for new challenges!', I gather my clothes energetically, choosing only those which are in quite an usable state. I notice with content that the invisible Gareon sneaked out to the bathroom, smuggling my bra there. Ufff… 'I'll be back in five minutes.'

Or maybe twenty.

**The same day, 13:12**

**Velos Island, Greece**

Zhalia sat on the bench with content, crossing her legs.

'Well, what a quick tempo we had', she stated, exposing her face to the sun. 'The speed of light, literally.'

Dante couldn't say so about her preparations for the mission. He had waited exactly forty five minutes before she had dealt with all her matters, but he didn't resent her. He knew the women too well to believe in their assurances that 'they'll be back soon'. Besides, he had been willing to give Zhalia as much time as she had needed to feel like the same go-ahead, self-confident woman whose face she was showing to the world every day.

To be honest, when she had opened the door for him, he had gotten scared. She hadn't look better than few days earlier. On the contrary, she had been twice as subdued, gray, nondescript. Unlike Zhalia. Such an ignorance simply didn't suit her. He had known she had had to have some serious reason to neglect herself like that, and he had been worried that she had been suffering alone for so long. Good thing he had come. Even if he hadn't helped her to come to terms with her problems, at least he stimulated her to some activities.

Besides… he had derived advantages from it as well. He listened to the lap of the shower with pleasure, imagining clouds of vapor filling the cabin, settling onto the pane, covering Zhalia from too bothersome stares of anyone who would find a way to overcome the barrier of the door lock (it could be done with Farslip)… or streams of cold water sliding down her body, between her breasts which without a bra, under a loose T-shirt seemed more pointed than round, but still luring to cup them in his hands…

He knew that he should have focused more on cheering her up than on such thoughts, but it hadn't been his fault that she had opened the door in such an informal outfit. His male brain picked out the info which was the most interesting for any guy. Now she had to reckon that there would be times when he would be insolently staring at her cleavage. Hm, though… she hadn't caught him red-handed yet…

However, listening to the hum of the hairdryer had been pleasant as well, though he wouldn't have minded if Zhalia had done her hair in his presence. That way, he could have observed her strands twining around her neck and head, inhale the smell of her shampoo with every breath he had taken. He loved the scent of women's hair. He'd like to know how Zhalia's hair smell, what it is like to touch them, what they look like before she tamed them. That curiosity forced out his mind the tempting images of her naked body, wrapped only in lather… Maybe that was better. After all, he had felt bad with the lone awareness that he had been acting like a horny fifteen-years-old.

'_You've been fasting for so long, mac, so don't feel surprised'_, he stated patronizingly. '_You're such a damn ascetic lately_.'

In reproaching himself, the worst thing was that his reproofs were painfully right.

When the bathroom door had opened and Zhalia had come in, leaving the hot, steamed interior behind and bringing a fleeting aroma of various shower gels, soaps and cosmetics with her, Dante had felt the corners of his mouth coming up without the contribution of his will; he couldn't have stopped them even if he had wanted to. If he wasn't a gentleman, he would have whistled in admiration. His eyes had followed her the whole time when she had been getting packed, and Dante couldn't have stopped eyeing her even when they had reached the airport and met the two young Seekers and Cherit. During the flight to Velos, he hadn't managed to praise her properly, but now, when they were alone and had gotten their part of the job done, he had a perfect opportunity. Especially because she looked more than favorably in the Greece sunbeams.

'Now I'm not wondering anymore if I hadn't mistaken the door', he threw, supporting his leg against the bench nonchalantly and leaning over to the woman. 'Operative Moon in full bloom! What did you do to that sourpuss who impersonated you? Did you drown her in the shower?'

'No, but I'll drown you instead if you don't stop teasing me', she promised, throwing him her hazel stare. However, he read from her expression that his joking compliments had come upon a breeding ground. 'In the loo', she added for a better effect. Then she looked around and corrected: 'Hm, though it'd be hard to find a toilet here… So, you'll swim in Stavropolous when we finally get there. You wanted to find Jason's journal so badly, I'll just help you do so.'

'I'm not teasing you', he assured her warmly. 'You look great.'

'And you're such a convincing liar', she smirked, but she seemed really pleased. Her eyes brightened; though it could have been just a benefit of some women's tricks. He was well-aware that the change in her looks hadn't occurred thanks to a swing of wand, just a careful make-up. He preferred her in the lighter styling, however, he stated that if putting on some face powder could have cheer her up a bit, he had nothing against it. The most important thing was that she felt better.

'That's sad that you've got such a bad opinion about men', he remarked. 'Do you really think we can only cheat?'

'I've got my reasons', she responded meaningfully, staring at the horizon, the clear, cerulean sky and the deeply sapphire sea. However, he knew what she was talking about. After all, there was still a thicker layer of foundation in the place where the red marking left by the hit had been before. As if she was afraid that it was still visible. It wasn't. It was the first thing he had checked when he saw her on the doorstep. He had had to. He had been afraid for so many days that when he finally found her, there would be more injuries…

'I hope it was a single case', he said seriously. 'If it ever happens again…'

'It won't', she interrupted him wryly. 'I won't let it happen.'

It closed his mouth. She had said it as if she had been suggesting him that she would manage on her own and she didn't need him at all. As if she had been slapping him for the faults of someone which was similar to Dante only in gender. As if she had been thinking that just because he was also powered by the testosterone, he praised every moves the hormone was pushing the other representatives of the male sex to. But then, she suddenly sighed and came down a peg or two.

'Don't bother', she threw in an unduly light voice. 'It's really over.'

'Because of me?', he asked, throwing out the doubt which had been tormenting him during the last days. 'Because of our meeting?'

The stings of remorse wouldn't let go off him if Zhalia, even unclearly, had admitted it. That he added to her suffering. It was not something he wanted for her. He valued this girl too much to endanger her in any way. Even accidentally.

Much to his shock, she burst into laughter, tilting her head back. It wasn't a joyful laugh. Rather a cynical chuckle.

'Give it a break', she cut short. 'We're all grown-up. No one normal larks around because of drinking coffee together.'

Dante saddened. Though he calmed down, knowing that he hadn't been the reason for Zhalia's troubles, he was stung that she treated their date so disrespectfully. What else did she expect from a man to look at him in a matrimonial way? He had never dared to think that she was one of those who were impressed by aggressive brutes or stuck-up smartasses, thinking that all women were their property. But maybe she was. Apparently he wasn't her type and all her moves were just a playing of a bored little girl. After all, she called him a loser once. He had to be so distant from her ideals.

Or maybe it was just a comfortable way to shake off her frustration, caused by her relationship? Maybe she tried to play with someone the way some other guy played with her? A nonsensical way to deal with problems, but it helped someone people not to go crazy. Nevermind how it was. The important thing was that it hurt Dante, damaged his pride. So that's why he acted so fine towards her? To let her laugh it off? To make her treat him like her scapegoat?

He straightened up. He wanted to turn around and leave her alone. Just for a moment. Strangely, he felt angry. With himself. With her. Just a bit. Though he felt bad with it, 'cause he was supposed to feel sympathy for her. She had a right to act suspiciously towards men. But why did she tar them all with the same brush?

'But I'm glad', she spoke suddenly in a more gentle voice, 'because now you will have a chance to hit on me without remorse…'

She surprised him. The anger vanished immediately, as if it had never been there, replaced by stun, disbelief. Dante didn't know what to say. Was it just a casual remark? Was he supposed to comment it somehow? Or maybe she was suggesting him something?

'What's the idea I'd like to do so?', he threw eventually, pulling himself together and trying to sound as nonchalantly as her.

'I don't know', she smiled lightly. 'Maybe it's just that the common agent imagines too much. Kind of a fan girl syndrome when a chick faces her idol.'

'I don't think you're my fan', he responded, fighting with a mix of joy, excitement and surprise which had come over him much to his irritation. 'At least you didn't let me notice that until now.'

'Well…', she lowered her leg, joined them together, leaned to him. 'You're right, I'm not. But I hope you don't choose objects of interest from among your fan club members?'

There was something so charming and appealing in her honest voice, in the smoothly tilted head, in the faint smile, that she completely broke his defenses. He couldn't blame her for biting remarks and haughty poses anymore, he simply couldn't.

'Just on the contrary', he gave the smile back. 'I avoid them at any cost. Which is visible…', he made a gesture with his head to point at Sophie, approaching them. 'Notice that I choose you as my support', he accentuated.

'How should I understand it?', she asked, piercing him with her attentive, hazel stare.

How should she…?

And how was he supposed to explain it to her if he wasn't sure himself?

The kids' arrival helped him out the troublesome situation.

'There's a river several miles north from the coast', Sophie informed them, followed by Lok.

'Yeah, it's called Staverpop-something-rather', the boy apparently hurried up with the announcement, wanting to pass on the news as soon as possible.

'The fishermen called it Stavropolous', Sophie corrected him.

'Right… Stavripooplose…', he tried to repeat, with poor effects.

'That's what we've got', Zhalia responded.

'It may be a local legend, but there's a chance the Argonauts sank their ships there, so no one else could use them', Dante joined in, content that the talk moved to the topics he felt more confident at. 'So… let's find out.'

**The same day, 14:01**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

What a luck I accepted Dante's proposition and went to Greece! Though I don't have time for walks on the coast or sipping drinks in the beach pubs, but the motorboat ride and scuba diving are included in the mission's schedule. I can't complain. And I have to admit that it's way more better than turning into an untouchable bundle of unhappiness… If Klaus learnt about it, he would think that I was worried! No way! As a punishment, he'll discover that I'm having fun. What doesn't precludes carrying out my task in the meantime, of course.

Which is not so easy, given that I didn't look as a dream lover in the hotel. And that Dante didn't catch my clever allusion that I'm free and willing… He hasn't been paying attention to me since then, focused on the mission. Such a f*cking workaholic.

'I've input the available map data into the holotome', he informs us, showing the right plan.

'That's our best bet', I point at the river bend, where a large ship could fit in with no problem. 'Anywhere else it would've been spotted by now. Holotome, add a ship model right there.'

'Perfect fit!', Lok notices where the mock-up gets updated in the pointed place. Seems like I should get down to boatbuilding…

'We'll swim down and enter from this side', Dante instructs us, sliding his finger across the map. 'Even if the hole's been preserved by magic, we'll have to stay alert.'

'What if there's trouble?', Lok anticipates the facts. 'Can we invoke Titans underwater?'

'Of course!', Cherit, our infallible mine with knowledge about his fellows, responds. 'Just stick with heavy Titans, like Freelancer or Kilthane! They'll be able to walk along the bottom.'

Dante closes the holotome, apparently judging that everything is settled.

'Cherit, keep an eye out for unwanted guests', he says to the Titan. 'Everyone else, suit up.'

'Alright! I've always wanted to learn how to scuba dive!', Lok gets enthusiastic.

And I'd like to check finally what a beefcake Mr. Vale is.

'Wait a second', Sophie raises her index finger. 'Suit up? Maybe you could leave us alone first, boys?'

'Hm?', Lok exclaims, clueless like always. 'What do you mean?'

'Don't expect me to take my clothes off in front of you!', the girl bridles.

'Pheh', I snarl, exceptionally supporting Lok. 'I don't have nothing to hide.'

'That's true', Dante throws in with amusement.

I guess that means that in the hotel, he noticed the lacks in my clothing… but is that so important? He couldn't speak up more ambiguously. Sophie's jaw drops at that comment. I bet she imagines wild scenarios how Dante got that knowledge… Vale gets embarrassed, realizing in which way he could have been understood.

'I mean… any of you girls don't', he corrects quickly to save the situation, but it's too late.

'He's right, Sophie', Lok supports him willingly. 'You can suit up here…', he adds hopefully.

'Lok, you pervert!', the Casterwill growls, rapidly taking her sneaker off and throwing it at Lambert. 'Get out NOW!'

'Ouuuch!', the boy howls, hit right in the back of his neck. 'What was that for?! I just wanted to be nice!'

Sophie doesn't regard it as an extenuating circumstance. She doesn't stop the attack unless she forces the boy out onto the rocky coast. Cherit clears off alongside him. The Casterwill throws Lok's diving suit away and then lowers her arms, panting with anger.

'Alright, alright, I'll go voluntarily', Dante, the perpetrator of the whole mess, raises both his hands open in a defensive gesture. He picks up his suit and jumps into the river, landing smoothly on his feet.

'Hey, that's unfair!', I yell, leaning over the barrier. 'Don't leave me alone with that hysteric! She can throw me into the water or something!'

Sophie finds another bullet in the blink of an eye. I dodge it before it hits my head. Dante observes the belt with a metal buckle falling into the water, then raises his stare at me. And I've got a hunch he doesn't want to leave as well.

Letting my tits hang loose was worth it.

**The same day, 14:27**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

Dante emerged from under the water, piercing the surface with his head, and took a big breath. Panting, he tightened Lok's grip on his neck and pulled him to the coast. The boy was worryingly heavy and paralyzed, like a balloon filled with water. Vale's heart throbbed in his chest, frightened. How could've he let it skip unnoticed that the boy had gotten lost?! Why hadn't he realize it earlier?! Nevermind he had been able to find him before he had run out of breath completely, stuff his mouthpiece in the boy's mouth and pull him to the surface; if he had been just a second late and something would happen to Lambert…

He quickly took off the protective glasses from the boy's face and put his ear next to the lad's chest. His heartbeat was a bit subdued, but rhythmical. Vale calmed down a bit; he straightened up and waited a moment, placing his goggles on his forehead; they started to squeeze his temples too tightly. Suddenly Lok twitched and choked, spitting out a small puddle.

'Oh my…', Cherit squeaked, appearing above Dante's head from nowhere and staring at his young friend with fear.

Luckily Lok quickly regained consciousness; he was throwing out the swallowed water, blinking and snorting. Dante supported him gently, helping him raise his head.

'What happened?!', Sophie, slipping on the wet stones, ran onto the bank; Zhalia emerged right after her.

'I got separated', the boy explained, still pale, coughing and hoarsing through the sore throat. 'The room started caving in… Didn't know what to do… I lost it…'

Dante placed a hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture.

'Don't worry', he calmed him down leniently. 'You just felt a little out of your element, that's all.'

'I don't think he has an element', Zhalia stated bitingly, standing behind Sophie's back. 'He should know his own limits, for his own safety.'

'Speaking of limits, is there one on your rudeness?!', the girl cut back, for a change defending her peer like a lioness.

'It's too dangerous to go back in there', Dante interrupted the argument before it increased. 'The ship's unstable. We'll try something else tomorrow.'

'What's the plan?', Zhalia insisted; as always, she was the least preoccupied with Lok's accident and it was easy for her to get back to the mission.

'If we can't go down there, we'll bring the ship to us', Dante informed them, smiling mysteriously. 'But, like I said, tomorrow.'

Zhalia sighed with relief.

'Great', she stated, unzipping her suit a little. 'I'm starting to suffocate in this.'

It was easy to notice. Her suit covered looked like a second skin… just way more tight, especially on her hips and cleavage. It accentuated every strategic points of her body. Dante tried so hard not to look at the triangle where her thighs met, emphasized by the tight-fitting outfit.

'In this case, go and change', he advised them, trying to sound normal. 'If it gets windy, you'll catch a cold. We'll stay here and give you ladies some time.'

'That's right', the woman admitted, shaking her wet hair. 'Lok had enough attractions for today.'

Dante also wasn't sure if he would survive more. Especially coming from Zhalia.

**The same day, 14:39**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

Sophie is exceptionally silent when we try to free ourselves from the diving suits. I can't put it down to the mouthpiece of the scuba tank, 'cause she's already taken it off. I peek at askance, intrigued by that unexpected change. The girl peeks at the bank above the stern every few minutes, observing it with her eyebrows knitted.

'Well, well, well', I mock her. 'First you protested so much and now you're regretting that he didn't stay to watch… What a hypocrite you are.'

She wriggles at that comment. It's the first time I spoke about her feelings so openly. I guess she didn't know her crush is so obvious that everyone sees it. However, she is clever enough to realize that denying it is pointless.

'And who's saying that', the girl snarls haughtily, unzipping the suit. 'The person who hides something from everyone.'

'At least I don't act like a prune', I throw patronizingly, pulling the flippers off.

'Because no one would believe you', she cuts back, taking off her gloves and sliding the suit down; it falls to her feet. 'Such clothes and make-up would be suitable for a… for a…'

I guess she is too prudish to say 'a whore', so I finish instead of her:

'A classy chick. Not a fifteen-years-old redhead with a silhouette like an asparagus. Really, honey', I start sweetly, 'do you think that even if Dante saw you right now, like this', I look her up and down, 'he'd see a woman in you?'

Sophie straightens up hesitantly, blinking in surprise and probably wondering what I mean. She lowers her head, observing her body, callously exposed, only with two small pieces of delicate, pinkish, laced underwear. It's slender, tall, strangely elongated, as if she grew up in height in a very short time. Like an awkward, callow nestling. From under the bra with ridiculously small cups (so what that it has push-ups?), her ribs are clearly visible; her legs are long, almost too slim, a bit grotesque in that bony silhouette. She has a very narrow waist, seeming terribly fragile; her pelvis has the same wideness. It's not a woman's body and every part of it speaks volumes to prove that. It's a body of a teenager. Sophie must see that, but she purses her lips, ready to fight.

'Is that so?', she throws haughtily. 'So how a REAL woman looks in your opinion?'

I smirk with a corner of my mouth. I pick up the gauntlet willingly, certain of my victory.

'Like that', I respond, tearing away my suit with one tug and staying only in my black panties and bra, with my hands leaning on my hips in triumph.

Sophie clenches her fists, observing me from head to foot. She stares jealously at the curve of my hips, barely buckled bra, waistline. Her silhouette lacks all those nubile shapes which attract men so much. Even she can realize the difference and blushes more and more.

'Now you see, kitten?', I ask with the same lovely voice. 'Give it up and play with boys your age. You'll be fine enough for them.'

'A beautiful body is not everything', she murmurs under her breath, glowering at me. 'And it is not certain that I will never have one. My organism is still changing. Besides… there's something more than that…'

'Don't delude yourself', I extinguish her belief scornfully. 'You've read too many fairytales where the prince was fine with just a kiss, married the princess and they lived happily ever after. But in the real life, there aren't princes. There are just ordinary guys with ordinary needs, which have nothing to do with cute stories about lofty feelings…'

'Dante is not like that', she defends herself – and, at the same time, Vale. 'He… he doesn't pay attention only to that…'

'Maybe', I fob it off with a wave of hand, 'but anyway, those details really make him wired…'

Sophie gets stunned, goggling her eyes out; they start to shine strangely. She blinks quickly when the tears of fury, pain and humiliation appear on her eyelashes. She bends to her clothes, abandoned onboard, trying to hide those treacherous salty little streams sliding down her chin.

'You know nothing about him!', she bursts finally, struggling with her skirt. 'You think you do, but you don't have a slightest idea…!', she puts her blouse on, her hands shake when she tries to button it up. 'Maybe you didn't have contact with anyone of his sort before, but it doesn't mean that… that you can measure him in the same way like the others! You don't have a right to…', she gets flabbergasted, she has to take a breath.

I'm about to burst into laughter. Her naivety, her innocence, her trust… It's so ridiculous. She doesn't know life at all. She doesn't know men. She don't have a clue how cruel they can be. Even those who seem so chivalrous on the surface. You'll never know their real self. A well-mannered, sophisticated businessman who treats you with fancy meals and talks about ancient art, behind the closed door can turn out to be a violent bastard who will nail you to the bed and stuff his c*ck into your pussy without a scrap of foreplay, ignoring your protests, saying that you're a filthy bitch born only for that…

I shake my head slowly.

'Forget it, Sophie', I advise her wryly. 'You can't change the way it is.'

She takes shallow, short gulps of air, standing in front of me hopelessly, not finding another arguments against my cynical smirk. She swallows her tears and raises her head bravely.

'He'll notice me finally', she states with all her might, brushing her eyes with her fists. 'He will… You'll see it soon!', she adds insolently.

Some people never learn.

'I can't wait', I laugh patronizingly, trying to sound biting.

We'll see who wins this competition. Tomorrow.

**5th July 2009, Sunday, 10:15**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

'Alright, team', Dante stood up after the finished breakfast. 'Let's get back to work.'

The whole four nodded. Lok jumped to his feet willingly, ready to wipe away his yesterday failure. Only Sophie was ahead of him, jerking up as if she had been sitting on some springs. Zhalia straightened up smoothly, without any rush.

'Everyone knows what to do?', Vale asked. They nodded again. 'So, we're going to suit up on the bank. We'll leave the board for you ladies', he appointed chivalrously.

'I'm going with you', Zhalia decided suddenly, grabbing her suit. 'The princess can use her wardrobe.'

'There's no need to', the Casterwill cut in unexpectedly. 'You can stay', she informed them generously. 'I don't mind.'

Dante and Lok exchanged stares, surprised by that change. Cherit also looked puzzled, but he just opened his arms, as if he had wanted to quote a famous aria composed by Dante's countryman: '_La donna e mobile!_'. Who would argue with a classic?

'If that's so', Vale shrugged and took off his sweater and T-shirt without unnecessary hesitation.

He noticed with the corner of his eyes that the girls were observing him askance, which didn't mean shyly… On the contrary, their gazes were very… importunate. Dante didn't have any complexes, however, he felt strange under such a careful examination. He caught Zhalia's stare, raised his eyebrows enquiringly. The woman just smiled, looking his torso up and down and licking her lips in a very sensual way. Then she took off her boots. Untied the bandanna from her neck. Dante got paralyzed with his hands on the belt buckle when she undid her jeans and slid from them easily. And when she took her blouse off…

Lok's jaw dropped. Standing on the one leg with one feet tangled in his trousers, he faltered, lost balance and fell down on the deck.

'Oh blimey!', it spurted out from his throat. Even laying astride like a frog, he couldn't take his eyes off Zhalia.

Dante couldn't blame him. It crossed his mind that lately he had seen such an attractive picture only on the cover of June magazine for men. Though he wasn't a devoted reader of that kind of papers, he remembered clearly how during shopping, a beautiful, voluptuous brunette, bending seductively in the satin sheets, had flashed before his eyes in the magazine section. He knew he should have made allowances for such photos – the graphic programs did their job – so he hadn't paid much attention to it. Now any conning or distortions were out of question, though. There was a woman of flesh and blood standing in front of him, additionally, he had known her for few weeks already and could certify that she wasn't just a dreamed-up being created due to the needs of thousands horny guys.

However, he would have never thought that a woman so close to the ideals without any corrections and embellishing had existed anywhere. But seemed like she did - and stood right in front of him. Zhalia was devilishly attractive, picture postcard shapely, literally like from some photo session for a magazine, and not a girlie, rather a _high fashion _one_. _The only thing she and the porn models had in common was a perfect silhouette coming right from men's fantasies. Her petite shoulders changed harmoniously into a nubile rise of her breasts, imprisoned in a simple, black bra. Her flat, muscled belly was a great prelude for a gentle rounding of her hips, narrowing into the slender, smooth thighs and slim calves. And that tush… It couldn't have slipped unnoticed earlier, when it was swathed in her close-fitting jeans or a skin-tight diving suit, but now, barely covered by the skimpy knickers, appeared as a bait too alluring to resist it. She was exactly one of the women who didn't let men sleep. Even if they sentenced them only to hankering in the sleepless nights and fleeting erotic dreams without fruition…

He pretended to look aside when Zhalia peeked behind above her shoulder. He didn't want her to read his expression, which must've been too clear and easy to decipher now.

'Is something wrong?', she asked innocently.

'Of course not!', Lok denied warmly, finally freeing himself from his trousers. 'Everything is perfectly fine…', he added, blushing more and more when he stood up and eyed new parts of the woman's body.

Agent Moon smiled with content and put her suit on. She reached to her back, trying to catch the zip. She fought with it for a moment, but managed to jerk it up only few centimeters. Finally, she gave up.

'Can you help me?', she asked Dante.

Vale nodded, glad that he hadn't taken his trousers off yet. His opinion about the view spreading in front of him could have been… too obvious for the rest of the audience if he had the suit on; it stuck to the trouble spots too tightly. A camouflage wouldn't harm him… just in case. He caught the pendant attached to the zip and for a moment, fought with a desire to yank it down. He resisted somehow and zipped it to the end calmly.

'Thanks', she said, pulling her hair out of the collar. The strands touched his cheeks fleetingly. They smelled of oranges. A bit bitter, a bit sweet. But he couldn't specify which one dominated.

Sophie cleared her throat meaningfully. Dante blinked and looked at her.

'I won't manage on my own as well', she remarked suggestively.

Vale didn't have a clue what had happened to his team that they couldn't deal with their suits, though yesterday they had put it on with ease. He was about to help the girl, but Lok went ahead of him. He zipped the Casterwill's suit with one move.

'Done', he said. 'Isn't it a bit loose for you, Sophie? It's protruding on your back. And in front too.'

The girl pierced him with her stare.

'At least I'm able to button it up', she hissed.

'And Zhalia barely manages to do so', Lok remarked. 'Maybe you two could switch up? Your suit would be just perfect for her.'

'No, thank you', the girl growled, pushing him away. 'I'm fine with mine.'

Zhalia barely hold back a smile of amusement. To hide it, she turned to Dante. She threw him an attentive stare and made a stricter face.

'And what's up with you, cowboy?', she asked, putting both hands onto her hips and shifting her weight to one leg. 'Jump out of your pants', she added **peremptorily, 'or I'll help you…', her voice changed into a soft, playful purr, spiced up with a smirk.**

What man would protest? Even if it meant only equipping for the mission… Dante just hoped that his body wouldn't react in a way which might have suggested how much he liked Zhalia's proposition.

He did. Very much.

**The same day, 10:41**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

Damn, what a luck that I got a grip on myself and accepted this mission!

I would've never thought that it'd be so much fun!

Everything goes easy. I'm getting closer and closer to Dante, like a vulture circling above a carrion. I don't have to lie in wait for him anymore. It's obvious he likes me. I've got a very pleasant feeling that completely accidentally I wrapped him around my finger. I constantly catch his gazes of a faithful spaniel. Strange that he's not wagging his tail. If he thinks I don't notice that, he's wrong. And who was right? What are all the guys interested in the most? Sophie may believe in their noble intentions, but I know better. Showing them a piece of naked body is enough to have them in the palm of your hand. Even such spotless heroes like Dante.

My mood gets better also because we managed to pull the ship to the surface with ease – of course with the Titans' help, but let's not be so fussy over details. Now the ship, though a bit shabby due to spending so much time underwater, rolls proudly in front of us, moved by the placid river waves. It's nice to watch. And that's enough for me. I don't really care for it. However, the brave Scouts always have to crack every mystery. I observe them from one of the rocks, drying my hair in the sun and gentle wind blows. I had enough of swimming and working for today. They can rummage through the ship as much as they wish, I won't disturb them. The boys always have an urge to take their toys to pieces.

'We can tell the ship is from the right time period', Dante states, 'because the metal work is bronze, like these rods', he points at the two meters long, dull bars carried onto the bank from the board.

'Why bronze?', Lok wonders, as usually. He always acts as if he had just arrived from Mars.

'That's all they had', Vale explains, examining the rods. 'It took many more centuries to innovate iron work and steel.'

'So, everything was made out of bronze then?', Lambert has to set everything in order. 'It was like a… plastic of ancient times?'

I smile lightly. It was actually a pretty good comparison.

'See?', Sophie shows them Eathon's journal. 'Our wreck looks just like the pictures the Greeks left us of their vessels…'

'However, there are things about this wreck that lead me to believe it's not the Argo itself', Dante dampens her enthusiasm.

'Like what?', Lok delves.

'It's way more cramped than the Argo's description in the ancient legend, isn't it?', Sophie guesses.

'Yes. Also the cabin layout is very simple', Dante adds, comparing the sketches and our finding. 'I'd expect more from a flagship. My guess is it's one of the ships in Argonaut's fleet, but not the Argo itself…'

Great, Dante. You're always such a killjoy.

Oh no, sorry. That DeFoe loony complicates everything way more than you. Damn it, who would have expected him to suddenly jump out among us, surrounded by his men and their Titans?! They land around us from nowhere, crowding us in the ravine and cutting out our way of escape. Excuse me, but wasn't Cherit supposed to be on the lookout?! Thanks, he didn't do his best.

'You're mine, Dante Vale!', DeFoe triumphs. Unluckily, I think that someone else also has an itch for Dante. And that someone has a booty way more attractive for a normal guy than DeFoe's thin buttocks. 'Poisonfang!'

Dante pushes away Lok and Sophie, they quickly crawl away from the charm's reach. He himself jumps away for a safe distance, but he gets dangerously close to the rest of the persecutors. Noticing Breaker and Kreutalk awaiting him, he gets a grip on himself quickly.

'Lend us your might, Metagolem!', he shouts, clasping the amulet in his hand. It glistens faintly, irregularly, like a shooting star. 'Oh no… I used all my power on the ship!', Dante realizes, looking at the useless talisman helplessly.

I just sigh theatrically, standing up agilely.

'I always keep something in reserve for emergencies!', I announce, reminding the rest of my presence. 'Kilthane!'

The dark knight emerges right in front of Dante, shielding him from the enemies. You'll thank me later.

'Take cover in the ship!', Vale orders, but doesn't move from his place himself. Hell, his Captain America syndrome got switched on again. However, Breaker and Redcaps's charge forces him to use his own advice. Bravo. We'd rather not see his guts flowing out from his abdomen. Under Augerfrost shoots, the whole four of us runs onto the ship board.

'How did they get here?!', Sophie freaks out, panting partially from effort, partially from anxiety. 'And why?'

'That's not the point now, right?', I snarl, crossing my arms; though I also wonder what the hell DeFoe is doing here. I thought that since Klaus told the Professor I caught Dante Vale into my cobweb, our boss would decide that disturbing my plan by the other agents is pointless. Well, I guess I was mistaken. Or DeFoe is so crazy that he had guts to opposite our chef…

'Follow my lead', Dante starts, gathering us in a small circle. 'I know it looks pretty bad, but I have a plan.'

'Oh yeah?', I throw ironically. 'You don't say?! Is the failure during summoning Metagolem a part of that plan?', I investigate sweetly. Dante clears his throat in embarrassment. 'We're locked and packed like sardines with the Suits around us', I spread my arms. 'There aren't many options left for us. Even such a Texas Ranger like you won't manage to get us out.'

'Zhalia's right in some way', Lok agrees with me (even if partially), looking outside through the slits in the planks. 'This guy may be a total nutjob, but he got cornered!'

'Zhalia, Lok, Sophie, go to the main entrance on the deck and bar the door', Dante ignores our remarks, coming back to his role.

'What about you?', Sophie worries. The little obsession is still alive.

'I'll be fine', he assures her. 'Just trust me.'

'I have a funny feeling that I've heard it before', I wonder, catching my chin in an overdrawn way. 'Well, let me think… wasn't it before every mission during which DeFoe's men treated us like dartboards?'

'We walked away OK so far, right?', Lok remarks. 'Maybe we should listen to Dante this time as well.'

Vale gives him a thankful stare, but waits for our opinions.

'I'll obey it', Sophie answers sturdily.

'I won't let you two go alone', I shrug. 'If I did, I could write my last will.'

Dante accepts my peculiar agreement.

'You should use small Titans, like Gareon or Icarus, to conserve your strength', he advises us. 'Now take your positions…'

Suddenly he casts a glance somewhere at the right and a strange, cocky smirk appears on his mouth. The one which could win over the Internet if someone decided to make a meme out of it. And then Dante jumps aside, dodging a blade reaching to his neck. A few auburn hair hangs in the air like copper threads of gossamer before Vale cuts off the source of light, barricading the hole in the hull with Touchram.

'DeFoe', he smiles widely, as if he wasn't standing in front of his persecutor.

There are various mental deviances. And Dante apparently gets wired that someone hunts him constantly. Good there's so many volunteers to do so, apart from me. I don't wait for the continuation. Let's allow him to play on his own.

**The same day, 11:04**

**The Argonauts' ship**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

The long-haired operative panted, getting up from the floor, but he couldn't hold back a satisfied smile. A long, silvery sword glistened in his hands; its handle was created of two crescents joined together and making a background for a lone golden cross.

'Your time has come, Dante Vale!', the man announced dramatically, as if he played a villain in a touring theatre. 'Mindrone! Gar-Ghoul!'

Dante took the Titans' arrival with calm. He didn't even twitch, though one blow of the gargoyle's large stone fist would be enough to knock his head off his neck. He jumped back when a stream of acid flew to him, but it was a planned move; he let the toxin separate him from the Gar-Ghoul, then he used the monster's puzzlement and jumped over his back, in the same time avoiding DeFoe's sword again. He noticed that the Organization agent didn't have a clue how to fence. He squeezed the handle with both hands so tight that his knuckles had gone white. Dante knew how to take advantage on it. He exposed himself to the attack; DeFoe took the bait and charged at him. Vale dodged in the last moment; the enemy, putting all the momentum into that slash, lost his balance – the blade cut only the air. The furious DeFoe lifted himself up onto his knees; his glasses titled on his nose, his hair stuck around his head. He repeated the blow, growling; he missed again.

'You won't run away from me this time, Dante Vale!', he drawled.

'But I'm not running away at all, DeFoe!', Vale laughed more to enrage him that out of real amusement. 'It's you who's fighting your shadow instead of me!'

'Gar-Ghoul!', DeFoe became furious, his anger came over his Titan as well. The gargoyle swung his tail, almost tripping Dante up. Vale leaped away, barely passing by Mindrone. He stated that fighting three opponents alone in such a cramped place hadn't been the best idea.

'Solwing!', he called, choosing the trusted Titan which wasn't tiresome to invoke, though.

The gray-feathered falcon dived above his head, catching Gar-Ghoul's fist before it crushed Vale's skull open. The infuriated giant struggled, unable to believe that such a small bird stopped him. Not having another opportunity to attack, he spat a stream of water. Meanwhile DeFoe gushed acid at Dante. The joint hits would have crushed him with ease but the man quickly used Hyperstride and grabbed hold of the beams under the ceiling. Raving over Spiderman in his youth was worth it… Falling down, he straightened his legs and knocked DeFoe down with a kick. The Organization agent fell down onto the planks. Dante thought that now he would get rid of him with no problem, but DeFoe got a grip on himself terribly fast and when Vale was approaching him, he responded to it with a swing of his sword; its tip barely missed the Huntik operative's cheek.

'Fool', DeFoe panted, 'what could a fist against a sword?

Dante had to admit that not much. The essential matter was to take the sword away from DeFoe, then. Well, it's normal to even take scissors away from awkward kids, and his enemy was just like a child lost in the fog for him. For now, he backed, noticing that the support – Gar-Ghoul – was coming.

'You know, after all your failures I figured out that the Organization would've done something about you by now', he mocked, not even blinking vis-à-vis the stone mug. The gargoyle reached his enormous hands out; Dante didn't wait for the end, he jumped and bounced against his back, landing on the other side of the monster.

'I'm guessing they must be really short on people', he finished with a sarcastic smirk.

DeFoe howled with anger, flying into a passion due to his rival's comments.

'Poisonfang!', he roared.

'Touchram!', Dante quickly blocked the spell, putting all his strength into it.

The stench of burning fabric filled the air when the spell brushed against DeFoe's jacket. A thin curtain of waving heat separated them from the fighting Titans. The Organization agent fell down, but there was still a blood thirst in his eyes. Dante calmed his breath. He ended just the first round, and DeFoe was already getting up. Vale was still surrounded by the enemies outnumbering him – DeFoe and Mindrone in front of him, Gar-Ghoul behind. And just Solwing above, observing every maneuver of his foes attentively. Suddenly the bird screeched, hit by the ray from Mindrone's eye. Dante growled, enraged by such a nasty trick. The Titan hadn't even attacked, he had just been hanging in the air! The blow should be directed only to defend yourself! Vale clenched his fist, strengthened it with a spell and forcefully stuffed it into Gar-Ghoul's belly in revenge. Solwing, pulled back together after the hit, supported his Seeker without hesitation, aiming at the Titan's eyes with his claws. Dante took advantage of the monster's confusion and knocked him off under the deck with Touchram. The strongest player had gotten eliminated.

Dante turned around and made a step forward, reaching his hand out in a determined, balanced gesture.

'You won't be able to defend my Titan's attack at this range', he informed warningly. 'It's over, DeFoe.'

The tip of the sword touched the floor when the long-haired agent hunched, as if he had been accepting his failure. However, Dante knew that it wouldn't go so smoothly. Especially because the enemy was hiding his face from him very carefully.

'You'll have to finish me, Dante', he announced with a surprisingly calm voice, which caused Vale to tremble. Strangely, this timbre made terrified. As far as he had known his opponent, he had expected a hysteria, yells, DeFoe ripping his hair out of his head. And now… nothing. Such a frightening contrast… Dante couldn't resist a feeling that DeFoe was planning a very unpleasant trick.

Agent raised his chin a little, looking him up and down with a mocking gaze from behind his yellowish glasses.

'I'll never surrender to you', he drawled, suddenly drawing something from under his belt and lifting his sword a bit; Dante tensed, ready to parry any attack.

'Think again, DeFoe!'

Both wings of the door hit the walls when Sophie rushed into the room and lashed at the Organization's minion.

'Sophie, wait!', Dante yelled through his throat, sore from emotions. What was she doing here?!

She didn't listen. She had her eyes fixed on the hunching enemy. Before Dante managed to stop her, in a blink of an eye, she jumped, turned around and with a kick, she knocked a transparent phial out of DeFoe's hand, then crushed it in the air with Boltflare. And before the shards of the flask landed on the floor, she stood with the blade at her throat.

Blood flowed away from his face when DeFoe slid the tip of the sword across the girl's neck.

'Apparently the tide's turned, Mister Vale', he hissed with an unduly sweet voice. 'Now it is you who must give up!

Dante felt his heartbeat in his eardrums.

If he surrendered, he would endanger the rest of the team.

But…

Did he have another choice? Could he really do anything else seeing DeFoe holding Sophie hostage, threatening her with a sword, dangerously close to her neck? Knowing that one quick move would be enough to cut the girl's artery? And observing the large, frightened, green eyes fixed on him?

If he decided to oppose DeFoe now, that begging stare would haunt him his whole life.

Gritting his teeth not to howl out of frustration and anger (with DeFoe? Sophie? Himself?), he lowered his arms next to his sides and opened them.

'I'm sorry, Dante!', Sophie choked out apologetically.

Her life was in danger, but the first thing she had thought about wasn't getting free, begging for her life, just… an apology?...

DeFoe smiled with triumph, probably finding this situation ridiculous.

'Unlike you, I have no weakness', he remarked haughtily. 'I don't make friends with my colleagues, so… they're expendable…'

Dante pretended to listen to that speech, but in fact, he was more focused on a silhouette which had sneaked into the room behind DeFoe's back. A silhouette with a very fair hair. The biggest klutz in their team. But now… their only hope.

'_Lok, don't screw this up'_, he begged the boy in his mind, then, to make DeFoe busy, he threw trenchantly:

'You don't have friends at all, DeFoe.'

'Boltflare!', Lok took advantage of the moment of confusion perfectly. The Organization operative howled, hit by the spell sent right at his back; his body bent from pain.

'Spidertouch!', Dante quickly took care of the sword, pulling it away from Sophie's throat. The girl fell onto her knees, released from DeFoe's brutal grip; Lok kicked the man, knocking him off right next to Dante's feet. Vale immediately took the blade away from him, then caught his wrist and twisted his arm onto his back. DeFoe wriggled like a beetle, sticking out his bottom in the burnt trousers.

'Yes!', Lok beamed. 'It must be time to eat, because DeFoe's just got served!'

Sophie wasn't about to laugh, though; she trembled, holding her shoulders and trying to stop her knees from shaking.

'Dante, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…!', she started, but cut short when she heard the noises from the deck.

'No time for that!', Vale interrupted her sharply. 'Help Zhalia!

Sophie hunched. Lok called her to order; he pulled her by the elbow and they both ran away. Meanwhile Dante stood above DeFoe.

'Now I'll have a chance to take care of you properly', he announced icily and emotionlessly. 'Say goodbye to your treasures.'

DeFoe peeked at him with fear, then he joined his knees together automatically. Dante barely held back a laughter. Someone people really had such primitive associations…

And he probably spent too much time with Zhalia if such suggestive situations were starting to make him amused.

**The same day, 11:16**

**The Argounats' ship**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

Grier looks at the wreckage of the barricade flatly when he treads on it unceremoniously. He doesn't pay much more attention to me either. Maybe 'cause I also lay on the floor and look just a little bit better, showered by the splinters, covered in dust and dirty? You wouldn't look astonishingly if you held back the pressure of the group of bruisers, and eventually got thrown away few meters by the power of their hit and covered up by planks, nails and pieces of metal.

And it was supposed to be such a nice holiday! What a pity that the folder of that travel agency didn't contain any info about one of the attractions: playing war. A very realistic attraction, given the explosions, bullets and injuries. The guys in front of me also look as if they had just escaped from the box of lead soldiers.

What do you think, do I have any chances against the eight burly brutes and their Titans?

Pheh. Of course I do. Just watch it, they'll be hard up in no time.

I jump on my feet, making a fighting pose.

'Gareon!', I shout, spitting dust from my mouth.

The little fellow's presence on my shoulders lifts my spirits. I throw quick gazes at my both sides, hearing that Lok and Sophie came back here. I've got a support. Shitty, but still.

'I'm not here to bully Dante's puppy and a couple of girls', Grier announces. 'Just make this easy for everyone and surrender now.'

'Girls?', I repeat in disbelief, putting my hands akimbo. 'You must mean Sophie!', I snarl, encouraged by Gareon's sinister hisses next to my ear. 'I'm a woman, a woman who's about to make you eat those words!', I add, leaning to the bruiser aggressively.

And then I punch him right into his face.

I don't know what came over me! It's stupid to start a hand-to-hand fight with someone twice, no, three times bigger than me! But hell, I couldn't let him escape uninjured after such an insult! Tarring me with the same brush as Sophie, especially after my speech which proved that I'm way more mature, pretty, sexy, cool and attractive, simply BETTER than her, is unforgivable!

I hiss; that brute has a hard jaw. But I'm proud of myself regardless, 'cause my action gave the others a signal to fight.

'You take the three on the left, Sophie, I've got the four on the right!', Lok decides bravely. 'I'm no one's puppy! Hyperstride!', the boy knocks down two of Grier's man. I don't know if he'll have enough strength to do anything more, but damn, it was beautiful! A bruised male ego can be such a deadly weapon.

Unluckily.

I learn it the hard way when Grier, growling, tries to return the blow. I dodge agilely, sneak behind him and kick his chest. The hit which was supposed to knock him onto the ground only makes him go one step back. My only advantage over him is my nimbleness; however, I'm not sure if this will be enough against his muscles. That's why Gareon supports me, sending beams at the agent from his burning eyes. What a shame he wasn't in Klaus' library when he raised his hand to me; my superior would have had two big holes in his palm.

I give out a shocked shout when Gareon vanishes in a cloud of greenish mist with a squeal. Grier takes his fist back with a satisfied smile.

'You bastard!', I growl, flying into an immense fury. I could forget that he was about to hit me. But I won't let him get away with beating Gareon, the only male who defends me always and everywhere, no matter what!

I bang my fists against the muscleman's torso; they deflect off his tough, pumped-up chest like ping-pong balls. Grier, not moved more than he would be after being hit by a rolled paper handkerchief, grabs me by my shoulders and pulls me away, like a disobedient, irritating dog who takes liberties with him.

'Zhalia, no!', I hear Sophie's scream, struggling in Grier's strong grasp.

I hate such assholes. They think they can do everything they want with a woman… that they can push her around just because her brains aren't placed in her pants… that they can rule over her, treat her like something worse…

Oh no. That's too much!

I pull my knees up, putting all effort into it, and brace my feet against the man's chest, pushing away from it as powerfully as I can. I grit my teeth, the pain in my arms only doubles due to such maneuvers. But I won't give up. They won't get me. No man will boss me around.

'Enough!'

Grier's grip gets weaker when he hears an unhesitating, ordering voice. I take advantage on his inattention and slip away from his hands like a soap. Just a bit of acrobatics and I land on the floor in a crouch, calming down my breath. My arms and legs are still aching a bit, but not as much to make me resign from raising my guard. However, Grier doesn't pay attention to me anymore, he stares somewhere above me.

'Release him!', he insists, clenching his fists.

'Abandon the ship, boys', the same collected, terrifyingly cold voice orders, 'or he walks the plank.'

Despite what logic advises me, I turn around. And I can't believe that such a threat left Dante's mouth. I can't even believe what I see. Vale stands in front of the entrance; in one hand, he holds a shiny sword (where did he get that from?!), with its tip scratching the floor. The second one mercilessly grasps DeFoe's collar, like on the bloodthirsty dog's. Not a human. Not an enemy, a dangerous freak who pissed us off and spoiled our plans many times. Just a dog, wriggling at his feet. A rag doll, dragged here by its clothes for a garage sale. Pitiful. Pathetic.

Dante, however… There's not a slight of his typical cheerfulness and gentleness in his eyes. They're like two topazes – golden, but cold, without the sparks which usually warm them up. His pose also lacks everyday nonchalance. He stands bolt upright, with his legs spread a bit, braced against the ground as if he was saying: '_That's my territory and I'll defend it_'. He's never looked so tall for me, though I know that he dwarves me and I have to look up twenty centimeters to look at his face. He's unmoved like a rock. Aloof. Proud. I don't know if that's due to the sword, but he reminds me of some ancient hero on the battlefield. Let's just make the duster slip unnoticed. It kinda looks fine now. Like a cloak of a mighty warrior…

Even Grier doesn't dare to put up a fight. Why? Normally, he could crush Dante with no problem.

'I took an oath', he dispels my doubts. 'I won't leave my commanding officer.'

'That won't be necessary, Grier', Dante calms him down, calling us to his side with a slight move of the blade. We stand next to him in a row, as if his presence was generating a protective aura. 'Promise you'll back off and I'll give you DeFoe!'

What?! Did he go nuts?! If we get rid of him, we'll have peace once and for all! I'm already fed up with that lunatic, screw it that he's one of the Organization operatives! I've never liked him!

'He's from the Organization, Dante!', I remind Vale. 'You can't trust any of them!'

I know best how true it is.

'I'm with Zhalia!', Lok joins in. 'Do you really think someone like that would keep his word?!'

Dante suggestively peeks at Sophie who wriggles anxiously. Uhooo, someone got stung by the conversation. The girl lowers her stare at her feet, embarrassed by our gazes. Well, it looks like our arguments lost.

'So what do you say?', Dante addresses Grier again.

The bruiser takes a deep breath, then he lets it out, spreading his arms.

'Agreed', he accepts the conditions. 'I won't break my word, Dante Vale', he adds, bending his head.

It wouldn't be enough for me. I know the Organization too well. However, Dante seems fully convinced. He lets DeFoe go, but still holds the sword at the ready until the agent doesn't crawl to his minion's legs.

'Idiot!', he squeals aggressively, though he shakes like a leaf. 'You'll pay with your life for this weakness! Men, attack! Show no mercy!', he orders, waving his trembling fist in the air.

Grier stops the puzzled group, shaking his head.

'What?!', DeFoe yells, seeing that. 'What're you waiting for?! Grier! I said: attack! You are my minion you idiot!', he lashes onto the floor and bangs his fists against it helplessly until the bruiser doesn't lift him up like a feather and flings him over his shoulder. 'Let me go!', now the hands of the humiliated leader hit the soldier's back. 'I will have your head for this betrayal! You serve me, me! Without me you're nothing! I will destroy you all, I swear it on my life!...', DeFoe's howling quietens down in the distance when the Organization operatives back off without a word.

'Sometimes', Dante speaks up when the footsteps get silent, 'honor can be found where you least expect it…'

I peek at him askance. The aura surrounding him faded away already. He has a bit hunched arms, the sword hangs down from his hand like an ordinary rod. The metallic harshness disappeared from his eyes. Now they're… full of sympathy. Embarrassed. Why? Because he humiliated DeFoe in front of his men? Did he prefer to avoid that? Did he really think that he could get rid of the enemy in another way?

Damn it, he's truly hopeless. In the movies, the main heroes at least are happy when they win.

**The same day, 12:51**

**The Argonauts' ship**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

'We were correct', Dante wonders out loud, taking the chests with notes from Lok and Sophie who stand on the deck. 'The ship isn't the Argo. It belonged to Atalanta, one of the bravest of the Argonauts; but her map tells us where the Argo was sunk. Apparently it's sunk in deep waters near the Aegean Islands…', he murmurs, placing the packages one next to another.

I'm not joining the work. No one forces me to do so, either. I guess everyone feels guilty that they left me alone with barricading the door before. I don't even raise my stare from above Atalanta's journal, which I skim through out of boredom. You know, I have a soft spot for women who write (or wrote) diaries. Call it vanity if you wish, but I prefer: the solidarity of pens.

'So to complete our mission, we gonna go track it down, don't we?', Lok adds, freeing himself of the last box.

'Yes', Dante admits, 'but first we're going back to confer with Guggenheim.'

Lok and Sophie accept that plan. The girl, finishing her job, clear off to the bank. The boy stretches out with content, apparently dreaming about rest now. He has his reasons to be happy; Dante rewarded him, giving him the sword with the Titan named Lindorm sealed in it. I wonder why he showed him so much confidence. But… is that the first time he surprised me today?'

And not the last one. I twitch when quite a heavy pouch lands on my lap.

'Zhalia, what would you make of this?', he asks, bending to me with his hand leaning astern.

I undo the latch locking the bag, opening it. And I part my lips from surprise.

'These are… DeFoe's amulets!', I choke out, touching one with my finger. To my surprise, it doesn't respond with a tickle of energy; however, I sense clearly that it's surrounded by a bubble of power, just like the others. 'Separating a Seeker from an amulet isn't easy! You must've used the power Sorrowbond!', I guess, raising my stare to him.

'Don't go making assumptions', he says with a very innocent face, reaching his left hand out. 'I could've just asked for them nicely…'

Just like that, as if he asked the way. It's so hard to believe that this lightly smiling, laid-back guy scared away a group of aggressive bruisers just two hours ago… I shake my head, trying not to marvel at it. Because it just excites an unhealthy admiration in me.

'This won't hold them for long', I remark, coming back to the amulets and touching them tenderly. 'We need to get them to the nearest Huntik Foundation safehouse.'

'That's right', Dante agrees, straightening his back. 'When we're checking with Guggenheim, I want you to take them', he points at me to accentuate his words.

'But… All this power… it seems like a waste!', I spread my arms, unable to believe how one can willingly resign from such a find.

'Unfortunately, they've been bonded to a very evil man for too long to be useful for us', he explains. I guess he's not happy with that as well, 'cause he turns away, probably not wanting to watch how much he's losing.

'Hey!', I stop him, seeing that he's about to walk away. 'Are you sure you want me to do this? I am the least trustworthy member of your team…', I remind him suggestively.

Why is he doing that? Why does he always entrust me with the most difficult tasks? Is he still unconvinced to me and seeks occasions to test me?

He stops. He stays silent for a moment. And then he turns to me.

'Despite what Sophie says', he speaks up, and I feel a light tingle coming through me, 'cause his voice is soft like a tiger's purr, 'I know that at the end of the day… I can trust you.'

I sink into the bench. Literally. I can't say anything, just open and close my mouth, like a fish dragged out the water. I bite my lip when I realize that his eyes aren't cool and emotionless anymore. There's something… attractive in them. Appealing. Making me want to look into them. They smile. Only to me. Until Dante walks away slowly, leaving me with a very stupid face. I stare at his broad shoulders, covered by a loose duster, filled by the wind. And for the first time, I can't find any cutting remark I could throw at his back.

'No one's… ever said that to me before', I whisper to myself, just regaining my voice.

So what? He also didn't have to. Then, it would be easier for me to think that… that I have to kill him. Just use and murder him. And it would be easier just not to give a damn about his order and just steal DeFoe's amulets from the pouch.

But…

He's a private eye. He'll notice. If not him, his colleagues. They'll tell him… And should I make myself suspicious in the eyes of someone like him? Someone even the Professor is afraid of?

That thought strikes me. I haven't wondered until now why the Professor wants to get rid of him so much. I judged him from my point of view – and all I saw was just a ridiculous, sometimes even pitiful stuck-up dude with a blown-up ego and any sign of balls. But didn't he prove that apart from the normal, ordinary, pathetic guy, there's someone else inside him? The Professor wouldn't mind a mere worm he could crush with his shoe. He considered Dante a danger. And now I know why. Because despite not standing from thousands of the other men, he has something in him that frightens even the biggest bruisers, sages and smartasses.

The Professor knows that he doesn't have to intimidate anyone to make them follow him. It's enough for him just to look at them, speak a word with his warm, friendly voice, lean to them on equal terms… and say that he trusts them.

How I deserve that?

I was trying to get rid of him right from the start. I'm mean, biting, haughty, cold and sarcastic towards him. I laugh him off every minute. And even if I think about him as a partner, it's just a plan for a few nights, and not even for my own pleasure, just to deal with my dark business.

So why despite all of this, does he treat me so… kindly?

And… why can't I respond to him in the same way?

Or maybe I can?

I peek inside the bag. The amulets twinkle to me encouragingly. They shout to me to screw the gratefulness. That Dante's kindness is just a façade which hides an equally ruthless self-interest? But I know these are only my doubts. Why can they know about him? What do _I_ know about him, apart from those formal info in his Huntik profile? Apart from some insignificant details, like the body beating the pants off Michaelangelo's _David, _a sexy smile and a honey-colored gleam of his eyes?

Sophie was so damn right. I don't know Dante at all. But despite that… I wonder if I should pay off for his trust with just a temporary loyalty.

_What should I do?, _I think desperately, letting the talismans slip between my fingers. '_What?'_

The amulets just wink to me playfully.

I sigh.

Alright. Just one.

**The same day, 13:01**

**Stavropolous river**

**Velos, Greece**

Dante easily spotted a silhouette in a dark red blouse on the bank. Trying not to make a noise, what was difficult given the stones getting under his feet, he approached her.

'Hey, Sophie', he reeled to her, standing above the girl. 'You OK?'

She twitched, then got paralyzed for a moment. After that, she came back to pouring the tiny, light gray pebbles from one hand to the other, pretending that she was deep into it.

'Yes', she responded quickly, but unsurely. She sighed after a moment. She let the pebbles slip away through her fingers and just then she answered honestly: 'No.'

'Just as I thought', he nodded. He sat next to her, leaning one of his arms on right knee, and looked at her from the side. 'I guess we have to talk.'

She pulled her knees to her chin, staring at her sneakers.

'I'm sorry', she murmured. 'I don't know what came over me. I should've listened to you, but I preferred to decide on my own. I did something very stupid. I was supposed to protect you, yet… I endangered you even more… I lost my head completely, I couldn't even fix my mistake… You must be furious with me…'

'No, I'm not', he assured her gently. 'It's true I'm not very happy about what happened… but everything ended up well. And I know you had good intentions. Besides, if I was in your place, I'd probably do the same. DeFoe was right in one thing', he announced, observing the water. 'The concern for our friends makes us lose our common sense. But he didn't have a chance to see that it's also our greatest power.'

'It was all because the phial with the poison', Sophie explained herself, spreading her arms helplessly. 'When I saw it, I got scared… I didn't know if you had seen it, if you would manage to avoid the needle in time… I was afraid that… that it would be the end… I… I just had to do something…', she threw out desperately, still not looking into his eyes.

'I understand', he calmed her down. 'But you have to remember that if I order something to you, I have my reasons. Above all – it's me who is your carer and it's my duty to protect you, not the other way round. You can't risk your life even if I'm in danger.'

'Do you expect me to stand and watch how they hurt you?', she raised her large, shocked eyes at him finally. 'Do you really think that I could?...'

'I'm not boasting about it', Dante warned her, 'but the truth is, from all of us, I've got the most experience. I'll get out of trouble faster than you and Lok. I always have it in mind when I plan the missions. I try to give out the task so everyone could manage to fulfill them. But don't think I underestimate you both. If one of you fails even at the small thing, the rest will crush as well.'

'But Zhalia gets important maneuvers', Sophie remarked sadly. 'Why do you trust her? You barely know her.'

Why? Dante knew that this question, once pushed away, would come back now or then. And it would be coming back like a boomerang unless he found a proper answer.

She was attractive for him, that was obvious. Hardly anybody could resist her charms. He saw her almost naked, he could admire every part of her body, except of the two intimate areas hidden by thin pieces of fabric – being more of a coquetry than a real coverage… At the mere thought about it, he felt a shiver striking through him, focusing mostly on his underbelly. But not only her good looks spoke to Zhalia's advantage. That girl had something in her that dragged to her like a magnet. She seemed to hold people at bay by her cool attitude on the outside, however, Dante sensed in her that special spark of fiery temperament, bursting into a flame when she was getting angry or excited. She intrigued him. Enraptured. And at the same time… worried. He caught every moment when she got spirited away, throw an unclear allusion, saddened, got silent. And then all his enthusiastic feelings were fading away, subdued by the hunch that she hadn't shown her hand yet. That she hid some dark secrets, which sometimes made her eyes less shiny and her sarcastic remarks less joking. It couldn't discourage him nor convince to stop that acquaintance, though. He wasn't one of the men who acted hastily. He wanted to crack that riddle, devote as much time for it as necessary.

'We have to trust each other', he responded evasively. 'We're a team.'

'We managed in a foursome before', Sophie reminded him. 'It was alright. What has changed, Dante? Why do we need Zhalia now?'

He couldn't answer her. Maybe there wasn't a good answer for that question. Or maybe he simply couldn't admit that in fact, they would deal just fine without operative Moon in their team. And that actually it was just his egoism that forced everyone to treat her as a part of the group. Because he himself had gotten so used that Zhalia was around, that she commented his every move and always, even in the direst hour, she relieved the tension with her black sense of humor. And that he knew what was she doing; he was sure that she was alright. He could keep an eye on her not to let the situation from before a few days earlier happen again.

But he hadn't known what it meant yet.

He got silent, watching the horizon. Sophie understood that she wouldn't get the answer. And she didn't cheer up at all. He stated that each of them should have some solitude now.

'Come back soon', he asked. 'We'll have to set off before 3 p.m. to make it before the evening.'

He stood up and left, having a strange feeling that instead of oversimplifying the problem, he had only made it more complicated.


	13. Chapter 13: Deceptive Desires

Hi guys!

First, an apology. I noticed that most of you didn't take the chapter delay well. I'm sorry, but I was really busy. I have so much of the new grammar structures and to keep my grades on the right level, I have to give it some time to learn them. I'll also have the next kanji exam the next week, right before Christmas, so I'll have to study more this week.

However, I decided I have to make up for the delay this weekend and translate the chapter. I didn't manage to do it the previous week - I prepared just a half of it. I judged that giving you just a part of the chapter is really disturbing. I won't rather do that anymore. Sorry for the complications. Now await full chapters, maybe only ending with cliffhangers, especially after ep. 13 ];

As for the Wikia - it's still just a lose idea. Maybe I will work on it during the Christmas break, but it's not certain. Don't blame it for the chapter delay, though. I know what comes first - of course, the chapters do. What to create a Wikia abou if there's no story?

Comments, comments!

- Joey8: I also like the intimacy you wrote about :) Everyone knows that love isn't just about sex. Of course we can't rip our heroes off physiology (I mean, both Dante and Zhalia are adults who started their love life some time ago, and they take advantage on their attractiveness), but making the story all about reaching the climax with the characters going to bed and then nothing... It'd be worse than some porn. I prefer building Zhalia and Dante's relationship not only on physical attraction, but also on friendship, bantering with each other, teasing and discovering another similarities and their odd but cute habits.

On the other hand, I'm not going to hide that your comment about wikia made me a bit confused. I know that I have many duties now and it may be a bit hard to take care of all of them, but I just want to try it. I'm already making some kind of notes about the characters - my own Huntik data, something like that. It helps me keep the info about them together and not to mess anything in their CVs. But if I don't manage to carry that idea on, I'll just drop it. Life is about trying, right? Don't worry, I know that my studies come first, but I'm not going to let them rip me off the things I really love - and one of them is my story.

- Kimberly: So, you'll love Ryder for sure :D I think he'll appear in chap. 15 or 16, after the mission in Ireland... I have it planned :D So much time left to meet him, I can't wait! But I can't skip the episodes in between, sorry. You know, all the Scarlet Byrne thing is important for the plot - and a great chance to vent Zhalia's jealousy at someone :D  
I know that Dante isn't someone who hasn't seen a naked woman, but... he had such a long break from any lovey-dovey stuff, so now he's so helpless ^^ I guess he really misses some intimacy, but doesn't have time to make a move... As you see in this chapter, he thinks only about helping Metz, putting his needs aside. Even if he really misses a woman by his side.

Jess: Don't worry, I don't mind the separate reviews ^^ Any of us doesn't like Sophie much, as I guess, but she's an interesting character to write about. She differs much from Zhalia. I guess that someday, I was like Sophie, while now I tend to be more similar to Zhalia (with my foul mouth, not with the love life, I'm promiscuous at all :] And I don't have such a great guy by my side... sniff). I want to show how she grows up - and out of her childish crush on Dante which causes her to act as if she was someone else. Dante will help her realize that she has to be herself to find everything she needs in her life. And that he's not exactly the one she wants to have beside her, just a vision of an ideal man she created. He knows he isn't. He has his demons, his flaws, he needs a woman who understands it and has similar experiences.

- CindyKayla: Actually, I'm the member of the wikia, the fifth one in the ranking :) I recommend you to join, it is fun (when you have time, of course...) I know, I made Dante melt maybe a bit too much ^^ But I like showing him in a state which differs from the collected pose he puts on usually. He's not only an operative, after all. As he once said (in the chapter, not in the original series), he tends to be just an ordinary guy :)

- StarTime101: Heh, thanks a lot ^^ The reason I didn't write where Zhalia is from is that it wasn't confirmed in the chapters yet. The info will appear on the website once they appear in the chapter. I guess it's better than writing every info I know right now and revealing all the secrets to you ;) Sorry again for the update mess. It's over now.

And for all:

Thanks for the good words, I guess I'll pass the test, though my homeroom teacher slacks off with marking it -.-

Anyway, enjoy the new, WHOLE chapter! And let me know what you think about it ;)

Best wishes,

Sha

* * *

**7th July 2009, Tuesday, 12:13**

**The Aegean Sea**

**Open waters**

'This is cool!', Lok states, looking around with his eyes wide open. 'I love the ocean! Fresh air, sun and speed! Finally feels like a summer vacation!'

Not for me, though. I guess I should be amazed 'cause the weather is holding up. Not a single cloud! The sky looks as if it was painted with a turquoise enamel. It's so blue that almost unnatural. Through the sapphire of the clear water, I see the fish and other creatures swimming across the bottom. The white-winged seagulls play around us, chasing each other or diving to find food. Sometimes the bolder ones circle above our motorboat, exploring the deck with their curious, black eyes. Cherit tried to make acquaintances with them, but it turned out that the birds were more interested in the leftovers from our breakfast. Given that the gargoyle had a fancy for them as well, they didn't find the basis for an agreement. The calculating birds snapped their beaks jealously towards the biscuits and dried apricots which the Titan was nibbling at ostentatiously, not going to share with anyone. The seagulls had to be satisfied with the bread crumbs Sophie was throwing them.

Damn, what an idyll. Like on some postcards or in an advertisement folder. Or on the location of some kitschy soap opera. I'll vomit the rainbow soon. Maybe I'd be less skeptical if I hadn't been covering the never-ending areas of blue for few hours, not having anything interesting to do. I see the 'exotic vacation' more like a time of sunbathing on the beach, smearing your body with sun block, occasionally swimming in the cool sea and exploring some local attractions. And – nothing like that here! The permanent boredom. The outbursts of joy from the other passengers only get me down because I don' find any positives I could enjoy as well.

I turn around to Lok and Cherit, grinning like fools, and Sophie, lying flat on the deck and trying to tan her pale mug. The redheads should avoid such a sharp sun. She'll be tomato red tomorrow. At least there'll be something to laugh off.

'Good afternoon, passengers', I start, mimicking the studied manners of a stewardess, 'and welcome aboard the _S.S. Seeker_. We'd like to make a special announcement, reminding you that we're on A MISSION', I accentuate trenchantly.

'Pardon me', Sophie sits up, 'but I don't recall Guggenheim telling us that having no fun at all was part of our mission…'

'I don't know what Guggenheim ordered you', I interrupt her disrespectfully, 'because at the same time, I was fulfilling my task, like every excellent agent.'

Alright, maybe not every excellent agent appropriates a part of the important delivery. But let's just pass over it.

'Does every excellent agent', Sophie mocks my voice, 'has to cock up her nose and think of herself high and mighty? Do you always have to spoil the others' moods just because you're sulky?'

And who's saying that. I snarl haughtily, putting my hands on my hips.

'No, I'm just caring that you don't take the piss out of the mission', I cut back. 'You don't see pros like myself and Dante goofing off now, do you?', I throw patronizingly, counting that Mister Vale will support me just that one time.

I could wait till my freaking death. The meaningful silence which falls after my speech makes me feel like an idiot. I turn around, piercing Dante with my angry gaze. He just calmly drives our boat, turning the rudder left and right lazily when he has to. Strange that he's not whistling, it'd fulfill the image of an idyllic ride. But his manners probably don't allow him to do so.

'Can anyone of you steer the motorboat?', he throws out of the blue.

We look at each other hesitantly, surprised by the question. Dante just peeks at us above his shoulder; he seems collected, almost bored.

Am I the only one noticing the playful sparks in his eyes and having a feeling that they don't imply anything good?

**The same day, 12:24**

**The Aegean Sea**

**Open waters **

'What was that you were saying about pros, Zhalia?', Sophie asks sweetly, waving to the boys with a light smile.

'I'm not talking to you', I grumble, leaning over the dashboard with my elbows.

It's all Dante's fault after all.

I try to ignore the boys' and Cherit's shouts, coming from the back of the motorboat. I try not to think that Dante Vale cocked a snook at me, and in front of two brats. And I try not to hear how much fun they have.

Because Mister Vale suddenly had a fancy to go water-skiing.

Just like that, he gave the rudder to the fifteen-years-old snotnose, took his clothes off, drew the equipment out (uhm, I'm still talking about the ski) and there he went. Now he's enjoying himself, playing with the sea waves, observed by Lok and Cherit who hoot cheerfully every time he manages to perform a spectacular trick.

And though I should think about his childish capers with scorn, I constantly feel tempted to peek at him askance. Seeing Dante fooling around among the waves like an exceptionally grotesque dolphin, I can't hold back a small smile. What a big kid he is.

'Now it's your turn, Lok!', he encourages the boy.

Lambert takes over the ski, meanwhile Dante clambers onto the deck, leaving puddles on the planks. He shakes his head like a dog after a bath; I cover my face when a rain of droplets flies at me, however… through my parted fingers, I observe how Vale gratefully takes a towel from Sophie's hands and dries his wet hair energetically. I have a feeling as if I was watching the behind-the-scene of creating the men shower gel advertisement. Until now, I've seen such tasty muscles only there. The water dripping from the strands flows down Dante's torso, bends smoothly on every highs of his muscles, refracts at his strong arms, slides down the six-pack on his belly and eventually disappears on his pants' line…

I'm curious how the way of the streams behind this border looks.

I reproach myself for such stupid thoughts. How is it supposed to look like? Actually, there's nothing especially interesting to watch what I haven't seen before. And it even amuses me how the guys can make a fuss over it, compare it and stuff. I turn my face away proudly, though only I know how much it costs me.

'And you, my ladies?', Dante reels up to us, putting the towel aside. 'Don't you want to try?'

'I'm wet enough, thanks', I throw ironically, pointing at my blouse speckled with damp spots.

He grins to me apologetically, and I feel as if something was melting inside me. Just a moment and my announcement will develop a new, way more spicy meaning… especially if he's not going to put his T-shirt on in two seconds…

What can I do that when he take his lame clothes off, he uncovers quite a piece of meat? David Beckham wouldn't be ashamed of such a body. I said before that I have a weak spot for well-built guys. And Mister Vale has something he can boast about. He looks as if he didn't do anything apart from pumping iron during his spare time. He completely denies the stereotype that Italians are just couch potatoes, stuffing themselves with pizza and pasta… I wonder if his butt is just as bitching…

I bite my lip, trying to win over the tremble of excitement and unhealthy curiosity, which take over me against my will, though I try to fight with my own horniness. I breathe deeply, it doesn't help; I feel even worse, I'm starting to suffocate. I guess that's due to that smell… sweet, sickly… The colorful spots flash before my eyes, the view is blurring… I slump inertly into my chair, hitting my head against the dashboard; I'll probably have a bump, but I don't give a damn, 'cause I'm so freaking faint…

My last thought before everything gets dark is:

_Damn, what an enforced celibacy does with a hot-tempered woman._

**The same day, 12:34**

**The Aegean Sea**

**Open waters**

'Zhalia? Zhalia, wake up!'

I murmur unclearly, with discontent, when someone shakes my shoulder. I had such a pleasant dream… a beefcake with a sexy body of a Greek god was stripping to _Sexy Back… _or maybe it was something else?

'Zhalia!'

I open my eyes reluctantly, blinking intensively. I hiss; my eyelids are stuck, they itch terribly. It's hard for me to focus my stare, but when I finally manage to do so, I notice above me an anxious, intent and awfully unshaven mug.

For a moment, I have a feeling that I'm in my dream again. But no. I'm completely awake. I recognize that mug. And thanks to being fully conscious, I realize that its owner isn't dancing naked in my erotic dream, just leans over me. Damn, I haven't felt so embarrassed for ages. Luckily my eyes aren't screens displaying the content of my thoughts. Otherwise Dante would see himself in them, sweepingly flourishing his pants, just torn off his butt.

I could spin such fantasies just during sleep. Matter-of-factly, I would choose someone more handsome for an object of my dreams. Maybe Bradley Cooper.

'You're awake', he sighs with relief. 'Fortunately.'

I think so. If I wasn't, a thought of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation could cross his mind. He'd scratch me with that bristle.

'What happened?', I straighten up slowly, holding my head, heavy like hell. 'Did I faint?'

'Not only you', he responds, pointing at the rest with a move of his head.

I look around. That's right, Sophie also just raises her head from above the rudder, massaging her temples. I lash at the dashboard in a flash, reminding that, damn it, we're rushing at high speed and no one is steering.

'Calm down', Dante puts his hand onto my shoulder. 'We're still. The engine is almost dead.'

True, I don't hear the familiar buzz of the machinery. Now it sounds more like the last breath of the choking pistons, cranks and other devices which according to me are contained in the engine (but don't try to take a mechanics exam basing on my dubious knowledge).

'We're lucky we didn't end up on the rocks', I murmur.

'Yes', he admits. 'Everyone of us passed out, except of Lok. He realized something was wrong and tried to save us.'

He points at the boy lying on the deck on his side, put into a safe position to let him breathe freely and at the same time preserve him from choking. Cherit watches over him faithfully, parting his wet hair with a protective, caring gesture.

'What's with him?', I ask before I think. Why do I care? I had an itch to finish him off myself so many times…

'He almost drowned, but I pulled him out the water in time. He'll be fine', he calms me down. 'What's more, thanks to him we're alive and well.'

Lok moves with a moan. Vale loses his interest in me (I should get used that he pays more attention to complete losers and wimps), approaches the kid and kneels down to him. Lambert gets up; his eyes are a bit blurred, but conscious.

'Again', he murmurs, spitting the water. 'I'm not a born swimmer for sure.'

'Luckily, you've got friends who won't leave you to die', Dante soothes him, pointing at Cherit and passing over his own input tactfully.

'Thanks, Dante', Lok hoarses, remembering about his help as well. 'How did you wake up?'

He coughs spasmodically.

'Easy there', Dante pats his back to help the boy throw out the sea water faster. 'My watch keeps tracking my pulse', he taps at his wrist; did I mention how boys love to boast about their toys? 'If I pass out, it'll give me a jolt to bring me back.'

'Man, I hope you don't forget to turn it off before going to bed…', Lok tries to joke, but it doesn't come out well, 'cause he still looks as if he was run over by a steamroller.

'When did we all decide it was naptime?', Sophie wonders, approaching us in a bit unsteady pace. 'What happened?'

'There was a vine caught in the engine', Lambert explains; the only one knowledgeable about the situation (exceptionally!). 'The smell made everyone zone out faster than a…', he wonders about a good comparison, 'trigonometry lesson.'

'That's not all it did', I remind them, pointing meaningfully at the place where the squealing engine should be.

'We'll need to dock to make repairs', Dante admits, scratching his chin. 'Let's check the map.'

He approaches the holotome and turns it on, then finds the appropriate application. It goes smoothly, we've been often using the Seekers technology recently not to get lost among the boundless waters.

'It's lucky for us that this Foundation boat has a built-in GPS that links to your hotolome!', Sophie states.

Dante nods.

'Holotome, access the Foundation's global mapping network and find the nearest habitable island', he orders to the device.

'_One habitable island within range – display…', _the machine responds with a cool female voice, zooming a small, pointed spot which turns out to be an island with a mountain sticking out in the center. It doesn't look impressive… I hope that they have fast foods here at least. It's the most important indication of industrial progress for me. Especially when my stomach starts to rumble.

'Since we only have one option', Dante spreads his arms, 'I guess we're heading there.'

'Alright', I accept, coming to the conclusion that even if the island lacks running water, electricity, toilet paper, the hamburgers are everywhere. EVERYWHERE. 'I just have one suggestion.'

Everyone stares at me enquiringly.

'Get dressed', I advise to Dante. 'Better not to scare the natives away right from the start.'

Lok bursts into laughter, still bubbling with water. He doesn't suspect that my request has its reasons.

If there is another unexpected nap, I'd rather not dream about Mister Vale as one of the Chippendales.

**The same day, 12:49**

**An unknown island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'Seems we've made it', Dante judges, looking at the shore.

Any of us doesn't seem very happy. Maybe we didn't expect a metropolis, but at least some corner comparing to Hawaii, with joyful, colorful natives, offering us drinks, handing us coconuts and so on. Meanwhile… the area looks completely empty. Maybe someone lives here – the exotic forests full of astonishing fauna and flora raise hope that one won't starve to death – but I've got a strange feeling that according to the Foundation, 'habitable' includes even a single hut deep in the jungle, the possession of some toothless old man hunched with arthritis, who won't even hear what we're asking him about 'cause he's been deaf for ages. However, he'll be all eyes seeing two nice chicks in his hermitage for the first time in a while. And I bet he'll drool from joy.

I sigh like a martyr. If we don't have another choice…

Dante throws a rope at the shore; the hook tied to it gets stuck between the stones. He checks if the rope is tight enough, and then with two jumps of a circus acrobat, he crosses it and lands on the shore. Me and Sophie do it more slowly, but as nimbly – we just don't fool around, we're rather not twist our necks. However, Lok proves his awkwardness again and lands in the water in a flash.

'He was water-skiing this morning and now he's taking up body surfing?', I comment patronizingly, seeing how the dripping-wet Lambert clambers from the shoal with a face of a perpetual sucker, who isn't even surprised by another failure.

'Not everyone can apt the grace of you two, ladies', Vale defends the boy, spreading his arms.

'Don't try to deal the point with your charm, Dante', Sophie advises him, exceptionally unmoved by his clever compliment. 'The boy is an absolute klutz!'

'Give the poor boy a break!', Cherit joins the talk; he was the only one sure that he won't even wet his fur. Wings are quite a good thing to have, after all. 'He performed fantastically today!'

'Yeah, give me some slack!', Lok snaps at Sophie, embarrassed and angry with himself at the same time; no one would like to make a fool out of himself in front of his wonder wall. And to be judged by her so harshly. 'This klutz just saved your life ten minutes ago!', he reminds her about his deeds. It's hard to believe in them seeing him in such a poor state…

'Greetings, strangers…', a strange note sneaks into our familiar choir.

We turn around at once, looking from the source of this voice. It appears in the guise of a group of women, approaching us slowly, but without fear. All of them wear long, trailing tunics made of a light, airy fabric, waving smoothly with every move. Most of them also have rich, golden ornaments incrusted with colorful gems – on their wrists, forearms, hanging down their necks, pinned into their intricately styled hair, into their ears… Just as if they ran away from some myths. I saw such characters only on the pictures from Klaus' old mythology, showing the pantheon of goddesses… souped-up, idealized, spruce… Is that possible that those images had their real prototypes?

Ahead of the procession, there's a proof that yes, they did. The woman who leads the group could easily hold court during a party on the Olympus and become another victim of the amorous Zeus, much to Hera's fury. Her every move is like a separate chance to accentuate the unearthly charm oozing from her – to swing her well-rounded hips seductively, fix her tumbling blonde curls, waving in the wind, and to flick an invisible speck of dust from her floating tulles, playing around her slender waist and a low neckline.

'If it is help that you seek, then you have landed your vessel on the right shore…', the stranger speaks up with the same melodious voice, standing in front of us with her hand on her hip. She reaches the other one out to us with a graceful, elegant gesture which makes the golden bracelets on her wrists ring. I'm clueless why such a move reminds me of a jaded hostess.

I guess I'd rather prefer the drooling grandpa. At least Dante's eyes would glisten with a spark of a great interest at his sight…

'Our engine is having trouble', he explains, sending her his smile no. 5 from the category: 'I'm sexy and I know it'. Though it should be called: 'I wear a lame duster, but I can take it off for you' instead. 'We were hoping we could dock here until we fix it.'

'I am Medea', the blonde beauty introduces herself, waving her lashes, unnaturally long - like two fans. 'Please allow us to be your hosts and guides. This island is a paradise that will provide you with everything you'll need…'

Why do I have a feeling that she drawls the syllables terribly and there should be an ellipsis at the end of her every sentence?! Perhaps it's some kind of a journalist's deviation…

Speaking of deviations, I bet that many of them has just crossed Dante's mind, 'cause he goggles at Medea as if he was enchanted. I throw her an attentive stare, trying to make it also appropriately scornful. At such a close range, I notice that she has a flawless, porcelain doll-like complexion, her lashes resembling curtains throw a shade at her cheeks, and her eyes develop a rare, greenish-blue tint in the sun, like sea waters. Contact lenses, for sure. And she has to have a very good face powder. Though, uhm… it's rather hard to find any chemist's here…

But, damn it, no one will tell me that her tits are completely natural! I don't care how she get them if there isn't any plastic surgeon, but I could gamble on my savings that they're made of silicone!

Fake or not, Dante seems to like them, because at their sight (it's not hard to notice them if this bitch wears such a revealing dress), he got dumbstruck.

'We appreciate your hospitality', Sophie takes over the steer, coming before our stunned leader. 'Pardon our rudeness'', she nudges him, 'for not having introduced ourselves…'

'Of course', Dante wakes up with a surprising vigor, massaging his side. 'My name is Dante Vale', he bows a bit. Yeah, and sweep the ground with your fringe as well, moron. 'This young lady is Sophie Casterwill', he makes further introduction. 'This soggy young man behind me is Lok Lambert, and the basket of sunshine is Zhalia Moon', he points me out to them negligently.

_Sunshine?! _Don't you dare 'sunshining' me! Call your dog 'Sunshine', if any living creature could stand you!

I pant with anger, throwing Medea such a stare that Dante's presentation develops even more ironical undertone. The woman flutters her lashes innocently in reply. I start to think that they're not fake…

'Pardon me, my lady', one of her comrades speaks up, coming ahead; geeez, do all of them have their own stylists who does their hair, paint them and dress them up?! I would have to have Victoria Beckham's credit card to look like that… 'but is your name truly Casterwill?'

I just realize that the whole 'my lady' stuff wasn't addressed to me, just to the red monkey. Daaaamn it, do even those chicks have to add to her vanity?! Who's she, the niece of Queen Elizabeth, that you confirm her in her opinion that she's not a mere bread-eater, just an aristocrat?!

'Yes, that's right, it is', Sophie admits, nicely surprised by such a treatment. 'Do you know my family?'

'Almost as well as my own!', the fair-haired girl assures her with joy in her voice. 'This is my family's responsibility to guard the Casterwills' legacy. My name is Christine', she lowers her head humbly.

Tears of agitation start to appear in Sophie's eyes. Oh no, the hysteria is coming again. She's really crazy about her lineage. But is it really necessary to kneel down to Christine's feet?!

'I lost my parents before they could annunciate me as a noble and reveal the Casterwill secrets!', she confesses querulously, embracing the girl's knees; she strokes her hair soothingly.

So the princess' rights to her heritage aren't as obvious as she wants us to believe… I'll remember it for the next time when she starts to queen over me due to her royal origins.

'I will be more than honored to lead you to your heritage as fast as I can!', Christine beams, pulling Sophie to the depths of the forest.

I don't have anything against it. This trip will be a thousand times more pleasant without the redhead around. Medea also accepts it with a smile.

'Let us help you relax', she offers, taking a basket full of herbs from her comrade's hands. 'We have many medicinal teas, made from the island's wealth of plants and flowers…'

'Medicinal plants?', Dante eyes still burn, though he's no longer staring boldly at Medea's exposed cleavage, just examines the basket's content with equal fascination. Well, well, does someone smoke weed here? Next time I visit him, I'll check what kind of plants he cultivates on his windowsill… I'm curious if they have five-finger leaves. 'What sort of illnesses can you treat with these?'

'Anything you can imagine', Medea responds, as if owning an infallible panacea was a completely normal thing in the world where someone died of cancer every second. 'Some of the more exotic flora can even break enchantments and cure curses…'

Dante raises one of the twigs, ending with a trembling, violet flower; the stalk seems to emit its own light, as if someone sprinkled it with glitter. He examines it closely.

'I have a friend who's in desperate need of a cure', he speaks up with a rapt voice. 'Can you take me to these herbs?'

Medea gives him a gentle, warm smile. I would say: maternal, if she only hadn't taken him by the hand in such a familiar manner.

'But of course! I've been studying them all my life', she says calmly. 'Come with me, let me show you…'

I can't believe it, but this idiot doesn't even look at us, just runs hopping following that bleached cutty! What, does he expect her to show him not only her herbs? Maybe other scrubs, damn it. On her legs best, 'cause I doubt that she found any razor in this pisshole… However, they can remove their unwanted hair with some self-made mushes…

Maybe they have better results in the depilation than me?...

I snarl. If Dante wants to play the catcher in the rye, that's his business. But I advise him not to overdose the magic mushrooms, 'cause I'm not gonna act as his nurse later.

My hope that the last two members of the team shows some sense is very tenuous and vanishes quickly; Lok's already surrendered to the charm of some chick who fastened onto him and chirping, leads him through the beach. Eh, like we see, men are inconstant in their feelings regardless of their age… It's obvious Lok has a thing for redheads. Though, I have to admit, the girl is prettier than Sophie, with her petite face and brown, almond-shaped eyes.

Cherit wants to catch up with his friendly naively (not realizing that Lok rather won't be happy having a chaperone around), but suddenly a small, chubby hand grips his tail and pulls him like a balloon on a string. A girl with sandy-colored hair separated from a group playing on the shore to catch the Titan and now runs back to her peers to show them her loot. The babysitter releases the gargoyle quickly and apologizes to him, acting like a novice kindergarten teacher. I wouldn't ask her to look after my cat, let alone a brat, if I had a slight of maternal instinct. But I don't, so I don't give a shit that the island mothers are stupid enough to leave their offsprings under the care of a woman whose IQ doesn't surpass the intellect of a medium-sized eggplant. Of two evils, Cherit is a better choice… He's on cloud nine that she proposed him to teach the girls. He can be someone's authority at last.

'The entire team is off chasing their fantasies', I state to myself; who else I could be talking to now?

'Fantasies aren't worth chasing', a voice responds; it doesn't belong to any of my alter egos, though, 'but secrets are!'

I turn around ostentatiously, facing some old woman. And it wouldn't be anything strange if not the fact that she doesn't resemble her comrades at all. I'm not talking about her age – it's obvious she won't keep the shape and complexion of a twenty-years-old – but about the styling. She differs much from a woman in her dotage who still tries to look elegant and neat nevertheless. A grayish, worn-out tunic hangs on her loosely like a negligently girded rag, her hair, partially tamed by a bun, ducks out of it and stick out like quills. Her nails, long and sharp like cat's claws, and prominent nose connote stereotypically to me – with a twisted witch who tries to interest me, speaking in riddles. If she thinks that I'll allow her to read my palm for a sky-high price, she's wrong.

'Where could any secrets worth finding be hidden on this island?', I throw scornfully, then answer it myself: 'Nowhere.'

'Nowhere is exactly where secrets hide!', the old woman squeals, then reels to me with a conspiratorial voice: 'I could show you an ancient weapon with a power to control minds that lies nearby…'

'Not interested', I interrupt her wryly, leaning over to her aggressively which makes her shut up immediately. 'I have a mission and it's time I got back to it.'

I leave the stunned old hag alone and come back to the boat. I have enough of freaks for some time. A weapon controlling minds, ridiculous. The island girls don't need any weapon to deal with Dante, as I see. It's enough just to flutter their lashes, show him some body and pull him to the bushes…

What a moron.

**The same day, 23:41**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea **

I lie flat on the deck, gazing at the navy blue, cloudless sky, covered with stars as thickly as Lady Gaga's outfits with sequins. I placed my arms under my head and bent one knee, that's the most comfortable position. It's still warm around – not hot, but nice enough to relish in the night without putting on a sweater and wrapping in a blanket. A gentle touch of breeze smoothes my face and plays with my hair, twining them around my neck and fingers. It's pleasant here, calm, like in a fairytale…

In that case, why do I feel so bad? Do I really miss the row of the troublesome four with whom I spend most of my time lately? Ridiculous! I don't mind solitude. There are so many things I can think about then, not getting pissed off every time when someone interrupts my flow of great visions with screaming the place down spontaneously.

What of it if now I'm just thinking about what happened with the rest?

Screw the brats; I don't care if Lok maybe stops being a virgin tonight and Sophie discovers her lesbian tendencies. But imagining Dante with that busty blonde is rather disturbing.

She's just a shallow slick chick who acts like an additional island attraction; as if everyone had to explore her… And how quick-tempered Dante is, damn it. He sees a woman and is ready in no time. Shame he doesn't notice what a looker he has right beside him! I'll let him know what I think about the downslide of his taste when he comes back. Yeah, right – when he comes back… What is taking him so long?! Collecting herbs?! Is it the way they call _it_ right now?!

I turn to my side, irritated, but on the other hand… offended. I want to yell at somebody, just like that, to throw my anger away. But I don't have anyone I could yawp at. I could summon Gareon, but… I wouldn't expect him to understand my inner state. He would just be here, letting me hug, scratch and talk to him, but not responding with anything which could replace me the other man's presence.

I bundle, pressing my hands to my cheek.

F*ck them. I'll manage alone. It's worked fine for so long.

**8th July 2009, Wednesday, 10:12**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea **

When I wake up, the sun is high on the sky. My hair is warm; I hope I won't get a sunstroke. Or that I didn't get it already. I lift myself up ponderously, unlike me. Everything hurts after sleeping in such conditions. My lids are dropping. I wriggled in place many times wondering what with the others before I fell asleep helplessly, exhausted by the uncertainty. I look around, searching for any signs of my teammates' presence.

Nothing. No one else's come back since yesterday. This isn't right. Can't I leave them alone for five minutes not to let them fall into some trouble?!

Looking for them at night was pointless, but now I take up the search without hesitation. Maybe leaving the motorboat without any supervision isn't the wisest maneuver, but it can't compete with the rest of the team's behavior in the ranking of the stupidest moves.

Where should I start the search? It would be easiest to find Sophie; if the Casterwills' library is really that important, every island girl should be able to show me the way. But… I'm the most interested where that baboon is. Besides, I should find the pack leader first, right?

It's not so easy 'cause I don't even know where to go. Though I checked Dante's location on the holotome, I'm still clueless where to find him. The paths in the forests weave, cross each other, are blind, lead to another place than I expected… When I finally manage to win the fight against the puzzlement and the thorny, twining flora and I find myself on a stony path leading up, I'm like a hand grenade without the safety pin. I'm just seconds away from exploding. My mood isn't lightened by the lovely scene spreading before me: Dante handing Medea the armful of flowers on the glade full of aromatic plant life. I should be glad I didn't find them in more embarrassing situation (by the way, he's a complete corny if he didn't take the chance), but his enraptured smile is more meaningful than showing a naked ass. I want to wipe it away. With my fist.

'Dante!', I interrupt the idyll with a sharp shout, approaching them as if I took some gear.

'Oh, Zhalia!', he notices me and pulls away from Medea.

'What are you doing?!', I don't give him a chance to speak, just lay it on the line. 'Last time I checked, we had a mission, remember?!'

'I decided we're staying here until I find all the herbs I need', he responds lightly, as if we were discussing a change in the annual picnic's program.

'There are only a few more that we require…', Medea adds with her irritating diva-like voice, smiling like Gioconda. I squint my eyes, trying to kill her with my stare, but she just turns away from me, as if she judged that the matter had been settled. Vale, surprisingly, follows her before I think about a speech full of arguments pro leaving.

'But Dante…!', I throw at his receding back; I'm not sure if my trenchant timbre is enough to convince him to get a grip on himself.

'Not now, Zhalia', he throws above his shoulder, not even giving me a stare.

Not now?! What the hell do you mean by: not now?! Then why the f*ck did you dash into my hotel, force your way to my room, make a suitable speech and pull me to Greece?! Just not to give a sh*t about me now!? Only because you saw better tits?! You damned…!

I want to fire Poisonfang at his back and make the blow come through him so badly… Screw the info he'll take to his grave. He deserves that…

But I won't descent to his level, right? I turn away proudly, leaving the apprentice herbalist with his new mentor. I recede with vigor, making my way through the forest like an enraged female rhino. I don't give a damn that the eco-freaks will get me for destroying the environment. If they dare to criticize me, I swear they'll regret it. I'll go bowling using their heads.

This thought is so soothing… Especially when I replace the greenies with my teammates and charming islanders. Medea's nut would be such a great bowling ball… if I only shaved her curly mop. With pleasure!

Besides, will I really disgrace myself paying attention to someone who paints her lips with a rotten mirabelle plum-like color?! That'll be the day!

'If Dante is so determined to stay', I murmur under my breath, trying to regain inner peace, so necessary during coming down the rock ledges, 'there's not much I can do… It's not my problem', I state powerfully, landing smoothly on a carpet of leaves.

What could I do then? I'm itching to rummage through Dante's backpack and cut a hole in every pair of his pants. On the ass. Then throw Sophie's make-up case into the water and take the batteries away from Lok's GameBoy… How could I punish Cherit? I don't know yet. I guess that the punch he gets from a hermit crab when I reach the shore is enough. The girls surrounding him burst into laughter.

'Oh, I guess the best defense is a good offence after all', Cherit tries to turn his failure into a joke.

'Teacher!', one of the kids waves her hand to catch his attention.

'Ay, Lass?', the gargoyle reels to the girl with a beaming mug; everyone likes to be appreciated and admired.

'How did the island get its name?', the little one asks.

'I don't know why they chose to call it Medea Island', Cherit responds truthfully, 'but I do know Medea was a powerful figure in Greek mythology!'

'She was?', the blonde wonders, blinking her angel-like blue eyes with curiosity.

'Indeed!', Cherit admits, floating above his students' heads. 'She was known as a great witch, and a women not to be trifling with! In the legends of Jason and the Argonauts, she had the power to control men's minds...'

Kheh, for sure. She passed it down to her namesake. But every mere Amsterdam slut is able to enchant a man with her boobs…

'You look like you're enjoying yourself', I remark, approaching Cherit in a fit of impulse. I won't say that I'm so overwhelmed by loneliness to stand even the small Titan's annoying squeal. It's just… I had a funny feeling when I eavesdropped his lecture.

'That I am, Zhalia!', the gargoyle admits joyfully, fluttering his wings with doubled power. 'Class, would you excuse me for just a moment or two?', he asks the kids, who accept enthusiastically, just waiting for an opportunity to mess around.

We recede from the children (I've always been allergic to them), choosing more solitary beach part, from where Cherit can keep an eye on his charges, though. He sits on the rock I'm leaning on.

'Those kids are amazing!', he ravishes over them. 'Their minds are so open, so receptive…'

'They're not even surprised at your sight', I interrupt wryly, 'and that's a rarity.'

'What do you mean?', the Titan asks, furrowing his brows. His enthusiasm dampens a bit.

'A Titan who can talk in reason like a person… Ridiculous', I throw dryly. 'You know, when I first saw you, I thought that you were pretty useless…', I say bluntly, 'but then… I got to thinking.'

'Yes?', Cherit is a bit embarrassed, he isn't sure what he should think about my straightforward opinion. However, he listens to me carefully – so carefully that he doesn't notice the crab crawling to him; it's the same one who pinched him before.

'You've been around since the time before when Titans first came to Earth', I continue, 'so you must know all about the ancient magic and the truth behind the legends…'

'That was a long time ago', Cherit brushes it off humbly, squinting his yellow eyes.

'So what happened to you between now and then?', I insist, not giving him a chance to breathe. 'What makes you so special?'

Cherit thinks, leans his mug on his paw, and then the paw on the crab's shell, accidentally.

'I'm afraid I don't remember…', he sighs.

I respond with a sigh full of disappointment. Well, looks like it's the end of the interview.

'I guess you think I'm pretty suspicious asking all this', I throw, about to leave.

'Not at all!', Cherit responds, cheering up a bit. 'Dante asked me all the same things when I first met him!'

Oh, great. Looks like we do agree in some things. Even if it includes only gathering info during the missions. Maybe I should be happy that I think similarly to my prey, but it doesn't give me anything if we differ so much in more important matters. For example, I don't make a beeline to a mere nymphet who flashes a part of well-toned thigh. (Probably it wouldn't enrage me so much if it was MY thigh.)

'Whatever…', I fob him, I don't want to carry that topic on. 'I don't suppose you have any desire to leave this island, do you?', I guess.

'Not really', Cherit admits, a bit remorseful 'cause he feels my antipathy, and a bit saddened by the vision I spread before him. 'I hate the thought of leaving these girls behind…'

'I figured you'd say that…', I roll my eyes and leave him on the beach without saying my goodbyes.

Looks like I won't find an ally in a fight of returning to the mission.

**The same day, 17:13**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

The digits on the on-board clock change for the thousandth time this afternoon, counting precisely the sixth hour of my surfing. Nope, not among the cool waves, though I'm on vacation. I rub my lids which itch terribly after staring at the holotome screen for so long, browsing the Foundation data and the Internet. Many info about Jason, his journey, meeting Medea and their blossoming romance with a tragic twirl in my head. If Dante had studied the myths more carefully, he would have known that Jason paid a high price for trusting the bewitching sorceress: losing his sons, killed of passion, and his beloved, burned alive due to the wedding gift, and, eventually, meeting his own death under the Argo's broken flagstaff. There were also many accidental corpses along the way, for example the witch's younger brother, dismembered to carry out the runaway plan, and king Pelias, boiled in a poisoned potion by his own daughters. Strange that the guy skipped such bloody parts. Maybe he just turned a few pages of mythology when he felt a stirring of romance.

Either way, I read the myth about the Argonauts from cover to cover and now I have a complete image of the witch who entrapped Jason. In the text, she was described as supernaturally beautiful – black-haired, with burning dark eyes and milky white complexion. It's obvious under which scheme they created the villains back then – they had to look disturbing right from the start. It wouldn't pass in the modern times… that's why the bad guys are disguised as attractive, appealing blondes with gentle, endearing smiles and sea-colored eyes.

It's certain she was clever and charming if she was able to lead everybody up the garden path… Definitely, everyone leched over the beauty who could easily coax them. However, there were also some useful spells concerned… some toxic plants, infusions, brews… and the mind-controlling weapon… Everything starts to form a coherent whole.

'Holotome', I throw to the device, 'I gave you the locations of Medea and the other island girls. Why can't I see them?', I demand the answer.

'_Cannot extrapolate the targets; experiencing magical interference_.'

So I was right.

'Dante and the others are all just outside the central forest…', I wonder out loud to myself, because there's no other rational interlocutor around. Besides, I wouldn't find a more intelligent one. 'Whatever's got into their heads, and the holotome, has to be there. It's not really my concern… but still…'

I reach for another dried apricot which I eat as a frugal dinner. I bite the fruit open pugnaciously, though I'd rather wolf down a hamburger. I hate healthy food. However, Sophie fancies it. She'll be pissed off when she comes back and notices that I snarfed all of her dietetic snacks. Very good, serves her right.

I should leave them all here and get the hell out of here at once. But, it shames me to admit, I don't have a clue how could I get rid of the buzzing and coughing engine… I guess I'd damage it even more. I think that the only person competent enough to undertake the repair is Dante. Damn, it's pissing me off like hell.

I throw another apricot into my mouth, just out of revenge. It tastes awfully.

I'll better leave them for Sophie and Cherit, who absorbs everything. I stand up as ostentatiously as it's possible, though no one is observing me. I want to look dignified in my own opinion.

I can't just admit that I miss that bunch of idiots. I'm doing it only for the mission's sake. And 'cause otherwise I won't get out of here. Yeah, just because of that…

**The same day, 17:20**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

A droplet fell onto a glistening, bowing straw of grayish-green grass, trembling on the slender leaves before it sunk between the other plants. Dante raised his head apathetically, checking if it hadn't been going to rain. It wouldn't change anything in his plans, though. He realized that it was the sweat coming down his forehead; he brushed it off carelessly with his sleeve. The heat was pestering, but he hadn't minded it until now, preoccupied with his task.

He pulled the little plant; the root smoothly slid away from the soil. His fingers were chafed due to constantly collecting the plants, even the fragile leaves were hurting his reddish skin. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered as much as the thought that the cure for Metz could be so close…

If not him, he'd have resigned from penetrating the bushes in search for the hidden, rare flora a long time ago. He couldn't do that, though, having a vision of his friend's swollen, strained face in mind; his withered, watery eyes, brownish liver spots covering his hands… The medicines hard-fought in Austria hadn't helped for long, they had just eased the pain. Dante couldn't even relieve himself, finding the black-market deliverer and beat his yap into a pulp because he had disappeared without a trace. On the other side, why would he take his anger out on the man who hadn't promised him anything? Metz had already taken so many medicines and any of them hadn't helped him… Maybe curing his affliction wasn't something a man could do, because it wasn't a man or his creation who brought the illness down upon him?

Dante brushed this thought off himself. There had to be an antidote for the mortal curse somewhere and he was going to find it, even if it had meant going to the outer space. However, he hoped he wouldn't have to look that far away, that he had already achieved the goal of his long search finally, docking on this island. Medea had assured him that they knew the secret of breaking the curses here. She was so calm, she didn't hurry with anything, she was putting the herbs into her basket so methodically, as if she hadn't been affected by the heat, effort, lack of rest. Additionally, she looked as if she had just raised from before the dressing table – fresh, flawless, charming. Dante felt like a complete scruff comparing to her. He felt dampness under his armpits, there were streams coming down his back. He should have take off the sweater… but there was no time for that.

Medea peeked at him and looked at his basket lingeringly.

'Just about done', she announced. 'We only require one more, the flymushroom, which only grows high on trees…'

Dante blinked, trying to focus his stare; Medea's lips started to wave before his eyes. He had just noticed how the hot air was billowing between them…

'Let's… go find that…', he murmured, trying to make a step forward and fighting his own sluggishness.

He tripped over and didn't have enough strength to regain balance; when it became dark before his eyes, he just fell down, landing with his back on the mossy ground.

'Finally', he heard before he lost consciousness.

**The same day, 17:21**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea **

The old woman almost drops dead due to heart attack when I jump from the tree right in front of her.

'I've changed my mind', I throw breathing out and leaning over her cryingly, with my hand on her shoulder. 'Show me this weapon of yours.'

The grandma's jaw drops (which exposes every cavity in her mouth and poor last of her blackish teeth; yuuuk…), she inhales for some time through her wrinkled lips. I start to think that some attack really struck her. I'm ready to get an IV therapy and carry her on my back just to make her show me the way. Then come what may to her.

'So?!', I insist. 'Are you going to lead me or not?!'

The old woman slowly stands up, trembling.

'Follow me', she throws shakily.

And that's what it's all about.

We slowly dip into the forest, so thick and compressed that despite the sun hanging high on the sky, it's almost dark under the dome of leaves and climbers. The faint sunbeams keep piercing through the canopy of lianas here and there, quickly suppressed by the wealth of flora… which doesn't really look beautiful in this scenery. Rather oppressive, overwhelming. Rapacious. I've just noticed that I haven't seen a single living creature in this wilderness, well, I haven't heard even the shiest bird trill. The silence becomes disturbing. I welcome an importunate buzz almost with relief; it's a fly flying around the old hag (I guess her clothes doesn't only LOOK as if they hadn't been washed for a long time). She scares the insect away with a hand slap, which throws it away on the leaves of some bulging plant. Due to the calyx and the stalk's built, I recognize the sundew, setting her deadly trap. It doesn't look, as most people think, as a quick muzzle snap – the fly just gets struck in a sticky secretion covering the leaves. Any clever predator doesn't act rashly when there's a chance to miss directing the ultimate blow. It's better to prowl, set your snares, lure your prey and make them fall into your trap on their own. That's my tactics.

But when I imagine how the sundew's calyx closes slowly and the plant's saps turn the insect into a smear, I feel sick. The apricots whipped from Sophie start to dance in my stomach. Ill-gotten gains never prosper… I turn my stare aside quickly not to vomit, wondering: does it look so disgusting only in the fauna and flora's world?

I shake my head and catch up with the old hag, what's not so hard 'cause she shambles a lot, quaking like a jelly. She parts the branches, looking for the way. Suddenly she shows more vigor, making her way among the twigs and hurrying me up with an impatient gesture. We come out onto an empty, non-wooded space surrounding a mountain – the same one I saw on the holotome first, enwreathing the island like a crown. And on the top of it, like a jewel, a crystal glistens with an emerald glow, sparkling in the sunbeams.

'This is the psychic weapon!', the old hag points at it.

'You're not kidding', I state with surprise, 'cause I expected to stray in vain, chasing the chimeras of the loony witch. 'That's the real thing, alright… Its power is incredible…', I make a step forward, wanting to have a closer look at the crystal.

'Before one can use the weapon, they must first form a connection with it', the old hag warns, stopping me.

'Alright, but… how?', I ask, not content that I know so little about the obelisk and that I have to fall back on the old one's help.

'Slowly hold out your hand before it', she instructs me precisely, showing what I should do, 'and relax…'

I fulfill the order with hesitation. The celadon monument gleams between my raised hands. From such a distance, it looks not much larger than my index finger… however, I sense its immense power, spreading all around and engulfing the whole island, like circles on water… The wave of energy washes my whole body, electrifying my hair and raising them around my head… My skin starts to itch as if there were electric impulses biting it… it should be unpleasant but it's not… actually… I don't want it to end…

'Now… let its power enter your mind…', the old hag's voice comes to me as if from a great distance, from the bottom of a well, echoing under my skull. 'Surrender yourself to it, only then will the connection be complete!'

Surrender? To erase the only person courageous enough to say out loud that something is wrong here? Not to let anyone break the spell which took over my comrades, messing in their minds?! To become another doll pulled by its strings by some mean power which finds pleasure in playing with human desires?!

'You must take me for an absolute fool!', I snigger, overcoming the numbness of my tongue. 'If I did that, I'd be a vegetable… forever!'

Instead of holding my hands out thoughtlessly, I raise my guard.

'Armorbrand!', I shout clearly, pushing the unknown power's tentacles away from me and tearing off its fetters.

'What are you doing?!', the shocked hag screams. 'Do you not want the power?!'

'Not to bright, are you?', I remark scornfully. 'I wanted to find the source of all these illusions… and I figured there had to be a connection to the mind-controlling weapon you kept talking about!'

'So you…!', she points at me with her shaking finger, goggling her eyes out in fear.

'Now that I found the source…', I raise my hand, gritting my teeth not to hesitate. 'Augerfrost!'

I don't close my eyes when the ray of icy-blue light hits the old woman's chest, though at the thought of her paralyzed, numb body falling onto the ground inertly, I barely manage not to throw out. Fighting a helpless enemy is so humiliating. However, I try to explain to myself that now there's just a delusion. In fact, there's no old woman. There's just an illusion created by the obelisk; an illusion which vanishes in an explosion of green light when my charm hits it.

I don't have time to ravish over my own perspicacity 'cause suddenly I fall onto my butt, tripped up by an unexpected earthquake. The mountain rocks to its foundations, as if there was a monster trying to come out from underneath; a tyrant who had had the island under his reign for too long.

'Great', I throw ironically. 'Now it's mad.'

Go on, bitch. Let's settle the matter like women. Which means: no holding back.

**The same day, 17:32**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

Dante twitched, feeling a terrible itch in his arm. He clenched his fingers, trying to overcome something which, as he thought, was just a neuralgia after picking up the herbs with his numb hands endlessly. It hadn't helped; the tingle was still crossing his skin, like a thousand of marching venomous spiders, effectively scaring away the weakness which had wiped the last five minutes off his memory. Oh yeah, the watch…

He opened his eyes and twitched again, noticing a hem of blue tunic and a hand decorated with golden bracelets above him. He recognized Medea and guessed that she was the reason his back was so beat-up – the herbalist was pulling him across the stony shore to the sea, which was surprising… Such a slender woman dealing with a guy two times bigger than her?! Suspicious…

He pushed her away and jumped to his feet.

'What's going on?!', he shouted distrustfully, looking her up and down.

The woman blinked few times, but then she smiled with an immeasurable gentleness.

'I was getting worried about you', she started with concern. 'Stopping to rest now of all times… We have to find the medicine for your friend, remember?', she reminded him suggestively.

Some other time stings of remorse that he had wasted so much time instead of helping Metz would overcome Dante. But now he knew that he had passed up more time wandering around this island and chasing illusions. The infallible panacea… Yeah, sure!

'There is no medicine here, is there?!', he threw contemptuously, then aimed at Medea's basket and shouted: 'Touchram!'

The herbs spilled in the wind, sprinkling them with shredded leaves, petals and stalks. Medea observed the rain of plants with her lips parted. Then she pursed them, a dull, almost animal-like growl came from behind them. They went blue; this color spread all over her face and shoulders, giving it a deathly shade. An unearthly, turquoise light blazed up in Medea's irises, engulfing her sclera and turning her eyes into two empty gems, like the emeralds in her jewelry. Her gowns waved, twirled, then parted, however, they didn't show two human legs – now the fabric barely covered a squat casing resembling a turtle shell with four fin-like legs. Her laugh sounded like an unnatural squeal.

'Here to dance?', she proposed him ironically, balancing few feet above the ground.

'No gentleman would refuse to dance with a lady!', Dante responded, preparing for Medea's attack.

He wasn't mistaken; the Titan charged at him with her whole rotund body. Dante bounced off the ground, jumped into the air, curled up to hit the mark more easily, then he straightened up and landed exactly on her shell.

'Touchram!', he shouted, aiming at her hardened flesh.

The spell left just a shallow scratch on the surface. _I'm too weak!, _Dante realized before he landed on the sand, thrown away from Medea's back like from a restive mare. He jumped to a safer distance, then he fumbled in his pocket, finding the needed amulet. Luckily the sly sorceress wasn't cunning enough to take them away from him!

'Solwing!', he yelled clearly. 'Cover me!'

The falcon came down on the Titan like a bolt from the blue when she was just an inch from getting Dante. Solwing stuck to her with his claws, pulling her away from the Seeker. Dante took advantage on the Titans' struggle.

'Dragonfist!', he hardened his fists and aimed at Medea's shell without hesitation.

The Titan howled when her body started to fall into pieces. Luckily Dante didn't see the whole decomposition process, because Medea vanished in a cloud of glistening energy, leaving just the scraps of the wicker basket and the herbs treaded into the sand.

Dante crouched, lifting a crumpled stalk with a purple flower. Suddenly he hissed, hit at the back of his head with something heavy – not as strongly as to make him fall down, but powerfully enough to let him see stars.

'What was that for?', he asked Solwing, who hung before him, peeking at him reproachfully.

The Titan just fluttered his wings and pointed at the mango lying on the ground with a move of his beak. Dante got embarrassed.

'Oh, right', he murmured. 'Thanks. That's exactly what I needed.'

_This, not some useless herbs, _the falcon's wise eyes were saying. Vale had to admit he was right. He lifted the fruit and cleaned it with his duster, then sunk his teeth into it. He almost sighed with delight when its sweet juice flowed down his throat. Few hours more and his stomach would stick to his spine.

However, he knew it wasn't the right time to stand like this and stuff himself with local snacks. The rest of the team was also under the spell… Sophie should have been in the ruins of the library, deep in the books. Lok… he hadn't been there to confirm it, but the islanders had told each other that he had been racking his brain over some complex puzzle. Some other woman had praised Cherit, helping her out with the kids. Everyone fell for the trap. Everyone… except of Zhalia.

A piece of mango got stuck in his throat. He swallowed it with difficulty, realizing that if he hadn't brassed the woman off few hours ago, maybe he would have avoided exhausting his organism completely and wandering around the island which didn't have anything to offer them. And… since she was the only person who hold her ground against the spell… she was also the most endangered one, the first to eliminate by the island's wicked magic to let it continue its reign.

'Solwing', he threw quickly to the Titan. 'You have to lead me to Zhalia. As soon as possible.'

**The same day, 17:43**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

Damn it, now I'm sure that the crystal is the source of the illusions! Otherwise it wouldn't defend itself so rabidly when I shot spells at it! Perhaps the weapon read my mind somehow and took the challenge I threw down seriously. We fight like two wild animals, coming on strong with each other, by fair means or foul. What a pity I'm on the hiding for nothing, fighting a losing battle… First – due to a bad location. The ones above always have the advantage. The forest should act as embankments, but what a burden is it for a non-physical energy which penetrates everything like a knife cutting butter? Second – I get weaker and weaker each moment, and the crystal seems to drain power from everything around, sucking it from the roots of the plants twining around its foundation… even from me.

Why did I undertake to rescue those idiots?! Just to die here badly and end up without a funeral?! After all, do they care that I'm trying to save their butts now?! They haven't even noticed they're in danger for such a long time! But now it's a bit too late to be kicking myself. If I had said A, I would have to say B. I've got to destroy this rock or Dante and the others will be…!

Will be what?! Still under the spell which lets them believe that they're just a step apart from fulfilling their dreams? Like Sisyphus, rolling a huge rock up the mountain naively, hoping that his laborious efforts will end soon? They deserve that. They should finally see that hard work isn't everything to achieve your goals. That sometimes it's not enough to make your dreams come true. That fate isn't distributing the clemencies fairly.

But actually… I'd rather win over that stupid rock and have a chance to say right to their faces: '_I told you so!_'

Overcoming the defiance of the strange energy, I fire a blast at the crystal, putting all my anger into it.

'Raypulse!'

The sphere of light breaks up against the crystal's surface like a fallen star.

'_No, stop, please!_'

What? My shield comes down when I stare at the obelisk in surprise. I think that I… no… it's stupid… no one else is here… but I've heard it…

'_No, stop, please!_'

Again… that lisping, inarticulate voice of a girl…

I shake my head, trying to toss away that strange feeling that someone is calling me… that the crystal's surface is waving, parting before me like water and sucking me inside, and I fall into the hole head on, holding my breath as if I was really sinking into the depths…

The celadon gleam fills my eyes before the green mist disappears, showing an image clear like a just-printed photo…

_A dark dead-end full of toppled dumpsters and their content piling up under smeared walls, peed here and there by stray cats… Laughter of a bunch of musclemen, emptying another dustbin and throwing mucky wrappers at a shape curling up on the ground… It's a girl, I recognize it; though her silhouette is so bony that it's pointless to search for any signs of femininity in it, her long hair give her away – ruffled, greasy and tied high on her head in a messy ponytail. She raises her hand; a hopeless, pitiful defensive gesture, ineffective against the blows landing on her, however, the kid keeps that position until one of the persecutors doesn't lift up one of the dustbins, intending to direct the final strike… The metal dumpster hits the little one's head; the girl, befuddled, falls onto the pavement head on, swallowing tears. She helplessly presses the sleeves of her grayish, overstretched sweater, which must've been green before, to her dingy face, but she just smears the dirt more. She bundles in her quilted waistcoat, pressing her hand to the hole torn accidentally in her worn-out jeans…_

'_Someone help me! Why won't anyone help me?!'_

_I shake myself off; the group of hooligans disappeared somewhere, and the girl isn't crawling in the mud now, just knocks violently to someone's door. Her fists hit the wood with a dull tap, time after time, and once more, the splinters mutilate her thumbs, but she doesn't stop, desperate, feverish._

'_I don't have anything to eat…!', she yells in a breaking voice before she loses steam; staggering, she leans on the door with her whole body, shaking and crying silently. Now I know why she's so horribly scraggy that I wonder why her legs aren't breaking like matches. The jeans slide from her waist – even more battered, but decorated with a neatly sewn patch in a shape of a cat's head… a patch which I was so proud of 'cause it saved my only trousers…_

That girl was me.

That's right, I was left to die and no one even blinked. Why should I help anyone?! They also left me, didn't care if I dropped dead during the time they were wandering on the island! As if I wasn't even there! They didn't deserve risking my own life which was so hard to protect until now!

No, it's a trick! The stupid thing is trying to stop me from attacking! Don't try your games with me, sister!

'Touchram!', I growl, trying to break the vision haunting me.

'_What do you think you're doing?!_', the silhouette of a slovenly girl with a distinct speech defect, still present in the crystal, shouts.

'Going through you!', I respond furiously, driven mad that due to the stay on the island, I'll develop the split personality. I shot Augerfrost at her.

That little half-arsed something which was me someday, parries the attack with one hand. She squints her eyes in anger, then turns away buoyantly, raising both arms to the sky.

'_Kilthane!_', she lisps. '_Gareon! Strix!_'

Yeah, try again, honey. It just so happens that their amulets are still in my pocket.

O-oh. The energy twirling around me starts to form more clear shapes…

'What's that supposed to do?!', I choke out, seeing the summoned Titans appearing in front of me.

'_You wouldn't attack your own bonded Titans, would you?!_', that little bitch is certainly making fun of me! '_After all, they're the only ones who haven't betrayed you!_'

Her voice echoes in my head. _Betrayed you… Betrayed… Betrayed… _the sound is as painful as scratching glass with a nail…

'Stay back!', I yell when the Titans come at me, 'cause I don't have enough power to stop them in any other way… I fall onto my knees, pressing my hands to my ears, trying to defend myself against the strange voices, but my head is splitting under the intrusion of the piercing, racking whispers:

'_Everyone's betrayed you… you're alone… all alone… no one will help you… alone… ALL ALONEEEEE…!_'

Yes. Yes, I am alone. I don't have anyone who will come hearing my scream. Klaus hasn't been calling for few days, satisfied with my wry texts. I wonder after how many days he'll realize that I won't manage to find any interesting info for him anymore…

And them, my team… They probably won't even notice that something's wrong. Trapped in their fantasies, they'll forget soon that I even existed… Sophie has never cared about me, for Lok, it's only her who matters, I frighten Cherit like the Predator, and Dante… oh, his whole affection ends when he doesn't need me on a mission… He once said that I could always count on him, and now… Where is he when I need him?! I WAS LEFT ALONE!

Damn it, I've always been alone and I managed to keep going somehow! And now, unfortunately for you, I've got some support!

I sink my hand into the depths of my pockets, feverishly searching for that one particular pointed shape. There it is; I wrap it into my fingers and draw it out, letting the sunbeams dance in the purple gem.

'CLEAR MY PATH, KING BASILISK!', I shout desperately.

The shiver of a strange energy strikes through me, but it's not trying to turn my brain into a pulp; just the opposite, it activates every cell of my withering body to fight, incites to stand up and face the danger – which is exactly what I'm doing. No one refuses the ruler. Especially King Basilisk, who claims his reign with a piercing roar and scares the enemies away, sweeping his tail so violently that he reaches the rock; some stones come down the versant, there are scratches left on the crystal.

'Uhhh, we did it…', I sigh with relief to myself, shaking a bit 'cause I still feel like a pudding heart. Good that King Basilisk took care of the attackers.

Not every one of them. Suddenly Kilthane emerges in front of me, raising his curved sword. I can try to cover myself with my arm – not much of a difference if I am put into the coffin in one or two pieces.

'Go, Caliban!'

A shape agile like a panther lands between me and my own Titan set against me. Kilthane falls onto the ground, rammed brutally with an armor-plated shoulder. I raise my stare; where the emptiness of the dark knight's visor was earlier, now I see a windblown, white mane. Caliban… if he's here, there must be also…

'Dante!'

Geee, do I really hear an ineffable relief, joy and disbelief in my own voice?! It's impossible… I can't be glad to see that moron manipulated by a mere blond chick…

However… When I just see that familiar silhouette in front of me, I feel how somewhere inside me, in a place which was filled by stream of fear and pain before, a warmth gets lit, and the hole through which uncertainty flowed in disappears… He didn't lie. He really came. He didn't let me get hurt.

And that's not important that instead of entering spectacularly like Bruce Lee, he just stands, nibbling at a nectarine.

'Sorry it took so long', he speaks between the bits. 'I had to stop for some groceries.'

I'm able to forgive you that, you idiot, because, damn it… I've never been so happy to see that unshaven mug of yours…

But I will whack your mouth anyway just in case, 'cause if you were just a second late…

Before I manage to fulfill my threat, someone grasps my shoulders. It's Kilthane who raised from the ground and decided to finish his action. Luckily Caliban is on guard – one sword slash and the dark knight is gone.

Alright… I guess it was some kind of a warning that I should stop with the punishments. OK, OK, I won't punch him. At least not now.

'Why is this happening?', I ask, approaching Dante, now without any bad intentions.

Before he responds, Gareon charges at us. Cross my heart, I love him… but only when he's on my side. In any other case he's… annoying, especially when he intends to kill me. And combining his power with Strix's efforts, he can succeed.

Dante pulls me away before the rays from the Titan's eyes shoot me. The gecko prepares to fire another blow, but…

'Freelancer!'

'Stop them, Sabriel!'

The help arrives, guised as the headstrong Lok and Sophie! The steel shield separates me from the lizard's murderous glare. Freelancer pins the gecko with his lance easily. It's not pleasant for me to watch, but… I remind myself that the real Gareon is laying safely in my pouch. Just like Strix who vanishes in a pop, cut in half by Sabriel's rapier.

My alter ego clenches her fist with anger, but she raises it in a quite proud manner.

'_I'm not done yet!_', she assures us boastfully.

'Oh yes, you are!', I retort 'cause I'm fed up with that little bitch. Only me can finish her off. And that's the right time to do so. 'King Basilisk!', I make a signal.

The girl turns around rapidly and raises her head, just now noticing a muzzle with bared teeth above her. It's my reptile's mean grin. As a goodbye before he sweeps all the past nightmares away from the surface of the earth with one big wag of tail.

I breathe heavily, observing how the crystal crumbling into thousands of greenish shards, glistening in the sun like the tears of the girl whose scream full of helplessness, protest and despair still fill the air.

But she's already gone. And won't come back.

**The same day, 18:01**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'Good job, everyone', Dante praised his team. 'It's over.'

It was true; the only thing that had left from the rock were the shards of the greenish crystal and a yawning hollow gaping in the top of the mountain, big enough for King Basilisk to curl up in it, what he had already done, probably claiming the hole as his new nest.

'That was such a magical trap!', Lok stated, biting mango and staring at the reptile, or rather his paw because he didn't dare to raise his glare higher; he still remembered about the lizard's deadly eye power and wasn't going to check if it still worked.

'It must've been left to guard an important treasure', Sophie guessed. 'Let's… Uhm, wait a minute!', she stopped halfway, turning away from the mountain. 'How did you have time to go and get food?', she asked suspiciously.

'Well…', Lok fazed, which didn't disturb him in eating the fruit, though. 'It was kinda on the way, Sophie… Are you OK?', he asked naively.

He should have read from the girl's face that no, she wasn't.

'You two are unbelievable!', she burst, raising her arms to the sky as if she had been taking it as a witness. 'Zhalia was fighting for her life, and all you could think about was…', she was in a pother over it, gesturing vividly, then she lowered her arms helplessly, as if she couldn't have found any more words to denounce their actions. 'Oh, nevermind, I'm so hungry I can't think! Give me some of that!', she demanded from Lok.

'No way!', the boy responded, probably still remembering her mocking after his morning failure. 'Find your own!', he added, then ran away laughing, noticing the dangerous sparks in his schoolmate's eyes and finding an ideal occasion to banter with her a bit.

'Get back here!', the girl growled, pursuing him.

Dante observed those two with amusement, finishing the apricot. However, when he started to nibble at Sophie's words, he stated that she had been right, somehow… Although his common sense was telling him that if he hadn't stopped for some food, he wouldn't have done anything, but it wasn't exactly the first thing he should have thought about. After all, he satisfied the biggest hunger. Now he could function normally.

He looked around, searching for Zhalia. He noticed with surprise that the woman was lying on the ground, curled up in the shade of a tree, with her hands placed under her cheek instead of a pillow, contorted uncomfortably. How tired she must've been to fall asleep despite such a rough position?

Dante approached her and knelt down, turning her to himself lightly. Her breath skimmed over his fingers; warm, regular, just a bit too fast. He brushed away some of her tousled strands, uncovering her face and examining it with concern. He was struck noticing how vulnerable and innocent that face looked; where had that fierce, self-confident expression of the go-getting agent gone? Now it was replaced by tightened lids, pursed lips and a disturbed twitch coming through all of her muscles. Dante really regretted that he didn't have his cloak on. He would take it off and wrap her into it up to ears. However… it was June. What a stupid idea. But today only such stupid ones were crossing his mind.

Just then he realized that for a few moments, he had been smoothing her cheek automatically. He took his hand back, embarrassed by that observation, though anyone couldn't have seen that. He stated that instead of doing bollocks and acting like a complete blockhead, he should have taken Zhalia away from here. She had to rest and it wasn't the best place to do so.

He gently slipped his hands under her knees and back. When he was about to lift her, he noticed a flutter of her lids. She looked at him distractedly.

'You can sleep', he calmed her down. 'I'll take you to the boat. We'll come back here later.'

She blinked few times, shook her head and raised on her elbow, then sat up, brushing her hair back. She hadn't say anything for some time, looking around and gathering her thoughts. She slowly managed to pull all the facts together.

'Have I slept for long?', she asked in a hoarse voice.

'Maybe five minutes', he responded. 'It was a hard day.'

'You can't imagine', she retorted, dusting herself off from sand and twigs. He reached his hand out to her and helped her stand. She looked at him gratefully. 'Have you already found the island's treasure?'

'Hm, we didn't have a chance', he threw suggestively, peeking back.

Zhalia also gazed above his shoulder at the mountain where King Basilisk were glaring at them, wagging his tail left and right like a pendulum.

'Of course', she murmured. 'I'm not sure if anyone would manage to make him go away.'

'Could you try?', he encouraged her. 'You defeated Medea, King Basilisk won't be a challenge for you.'

'Shut up or you'll enrage him', she threw with amusement, then she approached the mountain and raised both hands to tame the reptile. He listened to her coax and turn-ons reluctantly, returning to the amulet. Zhalia turned to Dante with triumph.

'You coming?', she asked.

'Are you sure you don't want to go back and sleep for some time?', he wanted to make it clear. 'You seem exhausted. It can wait.'

She denied again.

'Let's deal with it right now', she proposed. 'Don't you think you'll brass me off and pick up the prize yourselves!', she warned him. 'After all… what would you do without me?', she added more gently, with a light smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Dante gave the smile back, observing her, with her hands akimbo, her ruffled hair, rings under her eyes and the sleeve of her blouse torn, the obvious signs that the woman had done her best today… just to save a bunch of naïve jerks they had turned out to be.

'Yes', he admitted softly. 'What would we do without you, Zhalia?'

**The same day, 20:31**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'Medea helped Jason complete his quest easily, but she became his greatest foe. You must remember: no matter how good things appear to be, they can be deceptive…'

Cherit's voice rang all around the beach, reaching even Dante's ears. The man raised his head from above the beams supporting the boat, listening to the end of gargoyle's tale. With a moral, of couse. He sighed realizing that that conclusion summarized his today experiences perfectly.

He had had a feeling that he had been so close! That he had just needed some effort to help Metz! That everything he had had to do had been finding some suitable components and deferring to Medea's help to brew them! That it had been only one flower, one mushroom away and…

Now that the cruel sorceress' trick had been revealed, he couldn't believe how he could have fallen for it so easily. It was obvious the Titan had been leading him by the nose not to let him discover the island's secrets! She could've been cheating him like that his whole life and him, blinded, would've been wasted time, constantly strengthened in his belief that he had been so close to achieving his goal.

And maybe she had planned to harm him even worse than playing with him… Dante studied the Argonauts myth more carefully, paying more attention to the fragments about Medea. He had lost heart when he had read that the mythical sorceress in fact once brewed a potion which had brought back the life and health of Aeson, Jason's father; however, he had quickly shook it off when he had also read that the scheming witch could have also prepared a poison which she had given to Pelias. Could he really gamble like that with Metz's life and risk treating him to a decoction of unknown content?

Still, it had felt so good to believe for a moment that there had been a chance to win over the friend's illness, and the solution had been so close… He had already imagined the miracle cure, he had waited impatiently for the soothing of that never-ending fear about Metz's life… Now the uncertainty came back, additionally increased by the awareness that he had lost so much time for fruitless efforts.

If not Zhalia, he would have been still trifling away the priceless minutes.

He combed his hair with his fingers, then he hid both hands in his pockets. Much to his surprise, in one of them he found a creased violet flower. He examined it carefully, wondering if he shouldn't have consulted its features with some expert herbalist… The wind blew, the stalk quaked in his fingers, flashed deceptively. Few leaves got ripped off and floated above the sea. When one of them fell onto the surface, the water went darker. Dante shook himself off, then crushed the rest of it in his hand, turning it into dust which got carried away by the breeze.

'It's not over, Metz', he promised, staring at the horizon where the golden and orange sun was setting.

'Dante?'

He twitched, hearing Zhalia's voice behind him. He turned to her, surprised. He was sure she was still napping; she had gone to sleep right after they had returned to the boat. Meanwhile she was standing before him, embracing herself with her arms, though it was still warm; he judged that gesture had an additional meaning.

'What happened? You should rest', he remarked gently.

She shook her head, then tilted it a bit, looking at the water licking the starboard. Her lashes were casting an open-work shade onto her cheeks.

'I'd like to go for a walk', she responded, then raised her stare at him; there was an unspoken proposition showing in her eyes.

He understood it. He smiled lightly.

'So, shall we go?', he said simply, and she gave the smile back.

**The same day, 20:47**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

I don't know what came over me. I really don't have a clue.

I was lying on the deck, trying to fall asleep unsuccessfully, haunted by old demons, and not finding anything which could keep my thoughts busy; they had been circling around the same topic for few hours. I managed to close my eyes few times, but when I was starting to dream about the past, I was waking up rapidly by shaking my head. No, I couldn't sink into my memories again, letting them take away my inner peace. I won over them once. _Everything that has already happened is not going to come back_, I tried to convince myself. In vain.

And suddenly, completely out of that blue, I thought that I need a walk. Not alone, best. And since the first person I saw when I got up was Dante…

fact, the first people I saw were Lok and Sophie, chasing each other around through the beach like kids… whom they actually are. And I knew I don't want to spend the evening surrounded by their laughter, not able to share that joy.

Dante pulled me to himself somehow. Maybe 'cause in his posture when he was standing like that on the shore and gazing into the distance, I noticed the sadness, which, though different than mine, strangled him as powerfully as mine? I'd rather sadden together than be the only person in the company who can't find any reason to laugh myself sick.

Eventually, we turned our backs to the kids fooling around and walked in the opposite direction. Not talking. Supposedly next to each other, trying to keep our distance, but brushing each other's arms over and over when we waded in the sand powdery like castor sugar. Just like that, ordinarily. But pleasant, somehow… especially when I constantly catch Dante's gazes on me.

'I should apologize to you', he speaks up finally, making slow, cautious steps.

'I must admit that', I respond, realizing that I don't want to butter him up. I get bogged in the prisms of sand every minute; luckily it's not getting into my boots.

'I acted like a jerk', he confesses, obviously repentant. What a music for my ears.

'As if it was the first time', I sigh theatrically, waving my hand disrespectfully. 'I got used to that. Though I'd never have thought that you regard yourself as such a Casanova that even the female Titans keep hitting on you…', I mock him, wanting to accentuate that his interest in Medea didn't slip away unacknowledged. I know that I was ready to smash him like a tomato for that before, but now when I kicked Medea's butt, it's easier to tease him about that temporary fascination. The danger got eliminated.

My ironic joke stays unanswered for a moment.

'Don't worry', I throw patronizingly. 'Every guy would lose his head if a chick in transparent gowns pulled him into the bushes so willingly.'

Having some knowledge about Dante's sense of humor, I thought that this remark would amuse him. It turns out to be different. Vale's face darkens.

'It's not like that', he responds quietly. 'It's my… trouble again. Remember, I mentioned it in Vienna.'

'Yeah', I nod. 'I constantly hear unclear allusions. I'm reminding you that you also mentioned that you'll explain everything to me someday', I add trenchantly to let him know that I have enough of understatements.

Dante turns his stare to the sea.

'Yes', he admits finally, deep in his thoughts, 'but that's not this 'someday' yet.'

I regard it as a tactful form of a strict refusal. Too bad. This evening creates a proper atmosphere for confidences. Call me sentimental if you want, but I'm sure that I prove the lack of subtleness and romantic touch with every unrefined joke I make.

'Maybe someday', Dante adds suddenly; and that word again, 'there will be a time when we will be able to talk openly about our secrets…'

He turns around to look at me questioningly, enquiringly, as if he hoped that I'd confirm it. On the background of the bleeding sun, he looks like in a halo; his hair burn with the gamut of fiery colors, his cloak is waving around his tall, muscular silhouette.

I wrap myself in my arms tighter, feeling a sudden flow of cold; maybe it's due to the breeze blowing above the darkening sea, which slowly swallows the passing day.

No, we won't, Dante. Never. If I confessed my secrets to you, we could no longer walk across the shore together, admire the sunset and talk so friendly. But it won't happen. It can't.

The silence drags on; I have a feeling that it's awkward only for me. I don't see Dante's face, 'cause he's staring at the graying horizon again.

'Are you angry with me?', he asks eventually.

I should. I would want to. But I can't. Because you saved my life today. That's not important that we're even 'cause I also rescued you many times. You did much more for me. You searched for me. You came when no one even heard me screaming.

'No', I respond in a whisper, which comes out more gentle than I intended. 'I'm not. It was exactly how Medea's trap worked. She wanted to possess us, that's why she aimed at our weakest spots. She offered us the things we want the most…'

Dante looks at me carefully again.

'And what do you want the most, Zhalia?', he asks seriously,

approaching me. He stands before me; not close enough to let me feel his smell, but enough for him to look into my eyes and, if he stares well, notice how embarrassed his question made me. I turn my head aside.

'Now', I start with emphasis, 'I just want to come back to the boat.'

And not waiting for his reaction, I pass by him and turn back. I don't want him to sense that I lied. 'Cause return to the boat isn't exactly what I really desire now. Nor the power I sought my whole life.

For that moment, my only wish is breaking not only Medea's spell. I wish Dante's eyes stopped holding such a sway over me. Such an influence that I feel like a Titan someone is trying to form a bond with. And if he succeeds, there will be no turning back.

He won't. I won't give him a chance.


	14. Chapter 14: Freedom Fighters

**Hi everyone and Merry Christmas to you all!  
**

I know that it's a bit late for wishes and gifts... but I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get the chapter done earlier, even if I really tried. It was impossible before Christmas (kanji test, yuuuk, it didn't go as well as the previous one, but I hope I will pass), and when I came back home, there was so many things to take care of after my absence... You know how it is. But I didn't forget about you, don't worry!

Also, this chapter was quite hard for me to write. It surprised me, as I liked the episode. Grier developing a complex personality was a good thing to see, as I love his attitude, design and voice (when he says 'Megataur', I feel a shiver down my spine! I have a thing for guys with deep voices). I intend to write a separate story about him someday. Or maybe include a chapter focused on him here?

I don't know, maybe this lack of inspiration was caused by the exhaustion after studying so much before the test? Or laziness? Don't know, but again, I'm really sorry and hope that the delay at least made the chapter worth reading. I promise to make up for it. You know, episode 13... (squeal!)

**Rrrrreviews!**

**- **Joey8: Yeah, I know chap. 13 lacked some of the DXZ touch... but I didn't find much opportunities to stuff their moments into it. I always try to write my own scenes involving their private talks, but sometimes it's not possible, they simply don't fit in or feel right.  
Don't worry, I always overreact :D I'm not offended by your words, I know you advise me well. But I'm not going to abandon the story, no matter what. I tend to keep my duties in order and put them in the first place, but there are few things I won't leave just like that. I care for this story - and you, my Readers - more than you imagine. Even if I have a break (and one is coming soon, in January or February, as I will have to study for my exams), I will come back soon.

- Jess: Don't remind me, writing a test on 19th December is a pain T.T But the next day was our university Christmas Eve and I enjoyed it a lot! We sang Japanese carols and Christmas songs, our conversation teacher baked us some chocolate cookies, there were many sweets to eat, we also chattered a lot (I have many nice colleagues!) and laughed, and drank Japanese tea, and so on... I feel so good among those people, I didn't know there were another positive freaks just like me ^^  
As for the fanfic: sorry, but I don't really read another ones... First, I'm extremely jealous of the other authors and always compare my stories to them XD It makes me feel second-rated and stop working on my chapters 'cause I feel they're not as well-written as the others, not good enough to be posted... I know it's stupid, but I can't help it. Second, I always fear being accused of copying someone else's ideas, even if it's accidental and unintentional. I would rather not get influenced by them. Maybe someday, when I finish this one, I'll check 'Always save you'...

- Kimberly: I always understand what you write, though I sometimes wondered what happened to some of the words ^^ Now the mystery is solved! How was your Chemistry test? I hope it went well!  
Zhalia is a little jealous fool, but she can't help it as she gets interested in Dante more and more... Hahaha, she'll beat a living sh*t outta Scarlet when she appears XD At least mentally... But then, she'll have to deal with Ryder... I can't wait to write it, I'm so excited :D

- CindyKayla: I listened to your suggestion that having just a half of the chapter is disturbing, so here comes the whole one again. I'm not sure if I made it as awesome as you wrote the previous one was, but I tried!  
I know Zhalia is silly for pushing Dante away. But she is like that in the cartoon, and that's probably the way I'd also act if I was in her shoes. After all, I find many similarities between us so often.  
I've always thought Dante's eyes look similar to Solwing's. I have a soft spot for this Titan (you know, the way he protected Dante in ep. 47 was touching and heart-breaking...). That's why I thought about Titans and their relationships with the Seekers. When the bond is broken, they seem to be in pain. And that's exactly how it is when you part ways with someone you love, I guess... so that's the origin of the comparison. A bit pompous, but I couldn't help it.  
I've already wrote to Jess about 'Always Save You', so... I guess I ran out of words about it ^^ Check it out above.

Before you read the chapter, there are also few things I wanted to write:

First, if you like watching DXZ videos, I'd love to invite you to my YouTube channel. I'm not sure if Fanfiction allows the users to post links, but my username is the same as here, Suzue0Shayana. So, if you want to find me, just write: /user/Suzue0Shayana. Please come and enjoy!

Second: wiki/In_Pieces_-_Huntik:_Secrets_Wiki - it's the link to the wikia. I'm sorry it's so empty and unfinished, but I hope to clean it and make some changes. If you don't see the link, just type 'In Pieces Huntik Wikia' to your browser. I guess it'll find it.

I'm sorry for making it so long. I'm not stopping you anymore. Enjoy the chapter and wait for the next way more exciting ones to come!

Sha

* * *

**9th July 2009, Thursday, 11:14**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

Dante smacked his lips worriedly, looking into the motorboat's mechanical guts. He examined the engine cautiously, trying not to spoil any of its broken parts more. His team waited for the verdict in suspense. The observation took him fifteen minutes, after which he straightened up with his brow furrowed.

'And what?', Lok asked impatiently, stretching his neck out to see something above his shoulder.

'I'm not sure', he murmured, scratching his chin. 'It looks like the repair will take a while. Mostly because I'll probably have to resort to the on-board computer's help. It is a serious matter, I'd rather not screw anything up, consisting only on my guesswork.'

Lok sighed, disappointed. Waiting wasn't his favorite thing to do.

'What are we supposed to do there the whole time?', he spread his arms. 'There's nothing more than sand, trees and the sea.'

'Did you expect cinemas, entertainment centers and amusement parks?', Sophie scoffed at him. 'It's a desert island, not Las Vegas. Besides, you had enough fun yesterday', she added bitterly, calling back the memory of the girl Lok had spent most of the previous day with. Knowing that she had only been a hologram didn't convince her to forget about that event.

'Dante, do you have any games on your holotome?', the boy ignored her. 'I'll be fine with _Mario Bros_. Or even _Packman_. Anything, 'cause my GameBoy stopped working…', he added with the desperation of a kid of modern civilization cut off the newest technology.

'I'm taking the holotome', Zhalia cut before Vale managed to respond. 'I'll need the Internet.'

'I thought the pros don't kill time surfing in the Internet', the Casterwill mocked her.

'The pros use every available sources to crack the ancient secrets open', she shrugged. 'If we're spending here at least few extra hours, I'm going not to waste this time and take care of our finding.'

She pointed meaningfully at the stone board, thickset with signs carved in it. They discovered in the ruins of the sinister obelisk, right next to the amulet of the perverse Titan Medea, now lying safely in the locked box under the deck; its key was placed in Dante's trousers' pocket, thriftily attached to a chain with a piton, clipped to the belt loop. Just not to let it slip and get lost in the sand.

Sophie approached the board and lifted it cautiously, looking at the elaborately carved symbols.

'The linguistics is my department', she remarked not without pride. 'I'll translate it in a blink.'

'No option', Zhalia responded, catching the board from the other side. 'That's my loot.'

'We found it together…', Sophie denied, pulling the tile closer to her and preparing for the argument hanging in the air.

'I remind you that when I was discovering the secrets of this island, you were busy with some rubbish', the operative Moon accentuated, not giving up. 'And you'd be still dazed by them if I hadn't won you freedom. So better stay back, 'cause you know perfectly that I deserve that', she added in a voice that was supposed to end the discussion.

'It's not your property!', the girl protested abruptly, putting more effort into the struggle. 'Every ancient artifact we find belongs to the Huntik Foundation in the first place! It's the Foundation which protects the world heritage. You don't have a right to skim it off egoistically!'

'And who will decide about that?!', Zhalia shook her head combatively. 'A second-class newbie?!'

'Second class, ha!', the offended girl repeated. 'It's not me who's just a mere nobody! Really, I regret that yesterday I defended you against those…'

'Ladies, please, don't start over…', Cherit asked shyly, disturbed by the raising clash and worried about the board, pulled left and right, left and right every second. He almost saw it in pieces.

'In that case', Zhalia interrupted, unhanding the tile suddenly, which made Sophie falter behind, 'let the Foundation decide.'

'Alright', the girl nodded, regaining her spirit and squeezing the board to her chest, as if she had already know the verdict. 'Let's contact Guggenheim.'

'I meant that the highest-ranked member of our team decides', the operative Moon corrected. 'Guggenheim wouldn't be pleased if we fatigued him in such a trivial and obvious', she accentuated firmly, 'matter.'

'Right', Sophie admitted coldly, then turned away from Zhalia. 'Dante? What do you think about it?'

'Hm?', Vale, lost in his thoughts, raised his head from above the engine; he looked as if he had been focusing only on their mechanical problem for the last few minutes and had completely ignored the scuffle, unnecessary from his male point of view.

'Which one of us should take care of the board?', Sophie précised her question.

Vale wondered for a moment, then shrugged.

'Forgive me, Sophie, but I think that illusion magic isn't a domain to mess with. Zhalia is more experienced in that branch, as she has proved few times. I'm sure she'll deal with this spell as well.'

The Casterwill gaped; she was certain of the victory, after all, until now she had been treated like a dependable source of the bookish knowledge and an expert in powers. Taking advantage on her stupor, Zhalia took the board away from her arms unceremoniously.

'Thank you', she said with a smile too sweet to be honest.

The Casterwill only snarled and walked away, clenching her fists with anger and kicking the pebbles on her way. She jumped onto the deck and pretended that she didn't give a thing about the lose, instead, she got fascinated by the clouds sailing across the sky.

'And me?', Lok reminded about himself mournfully. 'What's with me?'

Zhalia rolled her eyes. She delved in her pocket and drew out two small, cylindrical objects.

'Here you go', she threw them to the boy, who, despite being surprised, managed to catch them. 'Remember, plus to plus, minus to minus', she added meanly, receding with the board held under her arm and her head raised proudly. Lok at first looked at her in shock, then examined two batteries lying on his hand in disbelief.

'How on earth she…?', he murmured, knitting his eyebrows.

He exchanged stares with Cherit, who only spread his paws, and Dante, who just sighed and shook his head. When it came to Zhalia, one could never be sure of anything.

**10****th**** July 2009, Friday, 13:21**

**Medea Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

It turned out that fixing the motorboat engine is a serious difficulty even for such an ace like Mr. Vale. The toxic vines ravaged through the machine harder than we initially thought, and it took Dante some time first to find the source of the problem, then to deal with it with the help of the indispensable tools kit, which, luckily, was found in the boat's equipment. Eventually, our stay on the Medea Island got extended for the next day.

However, I don't think it was a wasted time. I filled most of the horribly dragging hours with the careful study of the stone board. I managed to translate (of course with the holotome's help) the spell written on it, which had been keeping the island clouded by the mists of illusions and charming visions, deluding the voyagers effectively. Before I got myself to sink into the complex instructions, I made sure I wouldn't have any annoying company. It wasn't very difficult. Sophie, irritated by the failure, went to sulk about Lok's behavior. Because, obviously, I happened to mention to her how easily a charming islander wrapped him around her finger… I know, I'm mean. But it's so funny to watch how the Casterwill at the same time tries to pretend that she doesn't care and fights with jealousy that Lok dares to admire someone else. What a dog in the manger… She's got bad luck, though, since the young Lambert fixed his GameBoy and for a long time, he had disappeared from the real world, choosing virtual journeys through the following levels and, for a change, kicking butts only on screen, not in live. As long as the platform games were active, he didn't give a shit about his peer's baseless, in his opinion, pip.

Unfortunately, though I got rid of the kids, there was still one slightly disturbing detail left. The detail who looked good even if he had been laboring in the Greek heat, his wet hair had been sticking to his forehead, and sweat was coming through his T-shirt on his back, chest and armpits… I must confess shamefully that I caught myself many times that instead of reading the lines of the text scrabbled with my own angular handwriting, I thoughtlessly gazed at Dante's muscles moving under his clothes to the rhythm of his precise and purposeful gestures, guessed when he'll brush his falling strands back again, and wondered if possibly Mr. Vale hadn't debuted in some movie yet, 'cause the whole scene indistinguishably reminded me of the intro of a random porn video about a car mechanic and a horny owner of the crashed vehicle. And he was doing good as the leading character. However, he seemed to forget that in such productions, the main character is usually way more interested in his client's needs than in the broken gearbox. I'd fix his stick more quickly…

Luckily, after many efforts and hardships, Dante managed to fill the idyllic atmosphere on the shore with the familiar murmur of the engine.

'Hurray!', Lok jerks his head up from above his toy, which he had already lost his interest in a long time ago (how many times can you complete the same levels?!). 'You did it!'

'I knew it'd be a snap for you, Dante!', Sophie compliments him warmly, lured out from the deck by the awaited sound.

Hearing the kids' joyful shouts, their hooting and clasping full of admiration, I even hold back a remark that McGyver would deal with it a lot faster, and using only some dutch tape, wire and toothpicks. After all, I'm also glad we'll leave soon. And that probably I won't have to fight myself not to look at a quite nice piece of a guy who unknowingly exposed all his advantages in front of me.

'So, are we coming back to our mission?', Lok beams, tired of boredom.

'Hey, hey, calm down', Dante soothes his enthusiasm, smiling, but a bit tired as well. 'Let me take a breath.'

'Alright', Lok accepts reluctantly; he'd say his goodbyes to Medea Island as well. 'It's just… what are we supposed to do? I've already played the whole Spider-man…'

'I have an occupation', I remind them. 'So shut up and let me work.'

Dante nods and orders the kids to clear off with a gesture. He himself comes into the water and there, he starts to wash away dirt and sweat. He swills his grease-stained hands, dries them precisely, just then he rubs his stiff neck. I've just noticed that his back, nape and forearms got bronzed because of working in the full sun. And strangely, I consider it delicious. Maybe it's due to that tasty, light brown color. I'd say: caramel, if I liked sweets, but sorry, since I don't, it reminds me only of the nicely browned fries. I love fries.

I shake my head. Remember your focus, Zhalia, and don't think about food. And about your fancy to willingly champ even Dante Vale.

I return to the sheet with the old Greek carving's translation. I almost got how it works, however… I still need some time to give it a test run and check if I really understood the instructions.

And the regularly repeating sounds aren't helping me do that. I raise my stare and knit my eyebrows, seeing Dante wriggling on the nearby rock, as if he was dancing capoeira.

'Can you tell me what the hell are you doing?', I throw wryly.

'Warming up', he responds, continuing a complex sequence of moves with an unshaken calm. 'I went a bit numb during the work.'

I shrug and try to focus on the text again. But I know perfectly it's pointless as long as Dante is here, Dante showing his strength, vitality, agility and nimbleness in the full bloom. It's impossible to take your eyes off such an impressing view. Once, next to the hefty Montehue, he seemed deft like a hunting jaguar to me… Now, though there's no one else to compare him to, that impression doesn't fade. His fluid movements, precise, full of expression, but not mock, forced, just instilled in the human nature, conglomerated with it so tightly that they became almost instinctive…

I have to turn away to end the foolishness finally. I stare like a halfwit, just wasting my time. As if Mr. Vale's training was really worth such an amazement…

'Aaaaahhhh!', Lok howls, just when I manage to bring my thoughts back onto the right track. 'What did you do that for?!'

I peek above my shoulder at the brats, hoping that they'll drop dead due to my killing stare. None of them doesn't pay attention to me, though. Lok, looking like a drowned rat, stands with his arms down, dripping wet. Next to him, Sophie lowers an emptied bucket.

'I've been trying to get your attention for ten minutes!', she explains, leaning the container on her hip. 'If that didn't work, I was going to resort to using powers!'

Very clever, really. I guess that a punch is way more effective and doesn't create a danger of killing your teammate by accident.

'I guess that tapping me on the shoulder didn't cross your mind', the discontent boy murmurs, drying his head with a towel brought attentively by Cherit.

'Taking Lindorm for a spin?', the Titan guesses, noticing an amulet in his hand, the same one which was contained in St. George's sword and which Dante in all his hopeless nobility gave to that teenage nonentity.

'Yeah, right…', the boy starts and cuts short, lolling his head.

'Why not, Lok?', the intrusive girl investigates right away. 'You've never invoked him, not even in practice!'

'I know it sounds pretty lame, but…', he hesitates, embarrassed and confused, 'I feel kinda intimidated, Sophie… If I can't control him, he might really hurt someone…', he rolls the circular item in his fingers helplessly.

'His strength in combat makes his worth the trouble', Dante remarks, leaving his exercises and approaching the youngsters. You know, Agony Aunt always has to put in his two cents worth.

'Dante, don't you think Lok should give him a test run?', Sophie seeks an ally in him.

'Your focus has improved…', Dante avoids an unambiguous answer. Maybe he's disappointed in Lok's attitude towards his gift and regrets giving that cabbage such a valuable Titan? Or he really wonders whether to summon Lindorm or not, given his rapacious personality? 'Maybe it's the sea air?'

If that was the case, Lok's inhaled so much breeze that he should be on par with Buddhist monks in concentration, meanwhile the only thing that can catch his attention for longer than five minutes are platform games. Your argument is invalid.

'Alright, I'll go for it!', the boy decides, taking Dante's words as an encouragement and appreciating Sophie's support.

I take a break in my study, judging that the view will be worth it more than that, let alone Dante's previous activities underlining his broad chest. Lok raises the amulet high; even from such a distance, the light reflected in the celadon gem dazzles me.

'Lindorm, answer me!'

The sunbeams get an emerald shade, sliver, create a thread of an intensively green energy flowing in the air… Suddenly it starts to grow completely material claws, thick, hairy paws, calloused flakes on the shaggy back, curved horns on the wolfish head with huge bat-like ears and burning eyes of a prowling lynx, goat-like beard and nostrils and tusks of an infuriated boar, everything placed on a snakelike, legless body narrowing towards the tail and covered in grayish, rough bristle.

'Looks so mean…', Sophie states, and I recognize admiration fighting with disbelief and a slight fear in her voice.

'Now then Lok, let's see some action!', Cherit encourages the boy, more astonished than frightened by his enormous cousin.

'Okay…', Lok accepts; is it only me who senses uncertainty in his voice? 'Lindorm, throw that rock into the water!', he orders to the Titan, though it sounds more like a gentle request with a possibility to refuse. That's not the way you talk with a Titan. I know something about it, I've got a comparingly uneasy time with King Basilisk, however, I didn't let him smother me. Of course, you have to pretend a bit that you see him as a who-knows-what, as a embodiment of the invincible power, that way he feels self-confident and satisfied that he can show off in front of mere mortals, but I also have my methods how to trick him and force to be obedient when I need it, without damaging his high self-esteem. It's a win-win situation.

Lok still has to learn much… Any Titan won't listen to a wimp who openly shows them his inferiority. Especially as brutal and unpredictable as Lindorm. It's not a merry pooch you can bribe with praises and scratching. On the contrary, he will take advantage on every symptom of human weakness to get as much as he can, and finally, force his will. Now he's not impressed by Lambert's gentle timbre. Though he lifts the rock and throws it high, instead of letting it fall onto the bottom, he crushes it into pieces midair; few of them barely misses the Seekers' heads.

'Careful, Lok!', Cherit starts to understand that though the Titans are one family, there are also black sheep among them; for example, a nasty cousin… panting with hatred and bloodthirsty, approaching the men and intending to bite their heads off with one snap.

Guess who'll save the day? Not Lok, who only shouts desperately:

'I can control this guy… I think!'

Straight and loose as much as it's possible given the view of the monster attacking my comrades, I concentrate and gather my power in a way described on the stony board. I pay a special attention to Lindorm's image, trying to paint him in my imagination in the most accurate way, from the tip of his tail to his snuffing nose. When I'm sure that I didn't miss any important detail, I drawl clearly, letting my power out:

'Thoughtspectre!'

The shaking circles, created on the water by the falling rocks, start to shiver even more, then a dark, phantom silhouette raises from them… just like a mirror reflection of the Titan levitating nearby. The surprised monster loses his interest in the Seekers and faces his clone, whose existence he finds more dangerous than a bunch of some pitiful human ants. He dashes at the opponent fiercely, as if he was going to tear his neck apart with his claws or fangs. I see straps of fur flying all around.

'Steady…', Dante keeps a cool head even few steps apart from the deadly beasts. 'Do it, Lok!'

'Lindorm, return now!', Lok doesn't wait for any other signal.

The Titan reluctantly leaves his equally ferocious prey and, much to everyone's relief, doesn't try to prove his superiority again, just comes back to the amulet with a roar. Then I cancel the spell. Both Lindorms disappear in a cloud of green energy.

'Oh, don't everyone thank me at once', I throw sarcastically, coming down to the others from my observation point.

'What was that?', the shocked Sophie asks.

'I finally mastered the illusion power we found', I respond lightly, bursting with pride that I managed to stun that bookworm with my new abilities.

'Great!', Lok is amazed, probably because thanks to that, he still has his balls in place. 'I'm sure that'll be a big help.'

'Yeah!', Sophie joins the enthusiasm with the whole gathered irony. 'She can use illusions now, brilliant!'

She throws me a hating look saying 'I don't know your plans, but I keep an eye on you'. I ignore her haughtily, though I regret a bit that I didn't let Lindorm bite her leg off. However, I care only about Dante's opinion. As long as he doesn't act suspicious towards me, I'm fine. Well, he doesn't. He barely acknowledges my success. I don't want his compliments, but at least 'Good job' would be nice to hear.

'You know, Lok, Lindorm is a violent Titan', I lecture the boy like an expert in taming such creatures. 'You'll have to think destructive thoughts to control him… Now, don't we have a mission to get back to?', I remind them, raising my index finger, then I place my hands akimbo in a expectant manner, waiting for monsieur captain's signal.

'We do', Dante admits, jumping onto the deck vigorously, as if he hadn't spent last hours repairing the boat in heat. 'We'll set off for the Argo today.'

'This is so cool! It's just like we're with Jason and the Astronauts, Sophie!', Lok bursts cheerfully.

'Argonauts!', the annoyed girl corrects him, angry that her fears were ignored. I grin, 'cause I was actually amused by that mistake. 'It's Jason and the Argonauts!'

'Get your gear together, Seekers…', as always, Dante tries to avoid any unnecessary argument during an important mission; what a stickler. 'We have a boat to find…'

**The same day, 14:51**

**The Aegean Sea**

**Open waters**

'Hey, check it out!', Lok finally stops staring at the horizon with boredom; leaning over the barrier, he points at something in the distance, which we're approaching every second.

I squint my eyes and look hard, noticing grayish shapes of twin rocks, separated by few meters of water and creating some kind of a canal limited by their walls, so smooth that they appear unnatural, as if they were polished up.

'The Argonauts must've sailed right through here', I guess and get silence at once, 'cause I call back cloudy fragments about that topic from mythology. I didn't pay as much attention to them as I did towards Medea, but… As far as I remember, none of the Argonauts' adventure wasn't exactly pleasant. And some of them demanded human sacrifices.

Dante apparently has the same feeling, 'cause he suddenly pulls the brake; the boat shakes backward and forward, and Lok almost gets choked by the drink he was going to swallow; most of the can's content spread all over his shirt, though.

'Hey!', he shouts, spitting and looking worriedly at the spilled soda. 'What did you do that for?!'

'Look up there', Sophie shows him the reason for our anxiety. 'There's a burn mark on both sides of the cliff…'

'That's some coincidence', Cherit plays it down. So old, yet still so stupid…

'Maybe not', Dante denies more sharply, rummaging through his pocket and drawing out the amulet. 'Caliban!'

'What do we need him for?...', Lok murmurs, seeing how the Aztec warrior appears above the deck. The Titan lands on the panels, so violently the stern bows; his mass outweighs the front of the boat and makes the back go up suddenly. Lok falls back, losing his balance; the cooler with our drinks flies right above him, thrown into the air as if it was catapulted. It should land in the water; however, when it reaches the space between the rocks, they suddenly tremble and lock together like two magnets, turning it into a slice of metal and plastic in a second and press it into the stone with a painful crack.

'Not the most elegant trap I've ever seen…', I comment ostentatiously, as if we hadn't almost ended up the same.

'Any boat caught in there would be crushed in an instant!', Sophie guesses. What a deduction, woooah. 'Aren't they supposed to stay still? In the myth, the Argonauts managed to trick the Symplegades, sending a dove first. The cliffs locked on its tail, ripping off only a few feathers, and then the heroes took advantage on the time when they were re-setting to sail through… From then on, the story didn't repeat anymore.'

'As you see, the Symplegades have a fancy to hug something again', I throw wryly.

'But why my soda!', Lok resents behind us.

'There are plenty of drinks in the other cooler', the irritated Dante fobs him. 'But first, let's get past these cliffs.'

'Ice green tea, boiled ginseng extract?...', Lok murmurs under his breath, rummaging through the other cooler's content. 'Man, that's like drinking a carpet!'

I barely hold back a giggle. You hit the nail on the head, kid. If you hadn't left the shopping to Sophie, we'd have enough hamburgers, coca-cola and pizza.

'Maybe we can get through while it's re-setting!', Sophie comes up with an idea.

Hey, hey… I remind you that it's not an experiment in the low-danger conditions, on the laboratory rats! It's us who'll be the guinea pigs!

'Hold tight!', Dante orders us and switch the gear on.

The motorboat rushes forward so abruptly that Lok gets his head stuck in the cooler, toppling the neatly settled cans. No one of us goes to help him, we're too focused on observing the cliffs which are still re-setting.

'We're on the move… Are we gonna make it?!', Cherit wriggles with anxiety, following our boat's moves as we sail in between the rocks.

For a moment, when only the bow crosses the dangerous border, nothing bad happens. But…

'The cliffs have almost re-set! We need to go faster!', Sophie hurries up, seeing the rocks stunned few meters apart from each other and guessing that no they'll start the journey back.

Dante doesn't have any higher gears he could use now, despite this, he still looks for some kind of a magical button as if he was in the _Back to the Future _Doctor's car and counted that we will be saved by some hidden device. The teleporter would be the best!

'We're not gonna make it!', I state, smelling some distinctive odor. 'The engine's burning up!', I try to outshout its agonic drone and make Dante realize that, damn it, he should know best that after the last repair, the engine won't be in its greatest condition!

'We've only got a few seconds!', he responds, not slowing down. He apparently thinks that the state of our equipment doesn't matter now, only the runaway does. Very well, but why didn't he think earlier that there's only a slight percent of chance for us to survive that?!

'Would it help if I got out and pushed?!', I yell furiously, clutching my fingers on the barrier and spitting my wildly flowing hair out of my mouth.

'Yeah!', Lok shouts suddenly. 'That's a great idea!'

Before I manage to tell that idiot that I only joked, he jumps over the balustrade and lands on the lower deck. Does he want to get caught in the rotor?! I won't clean it off his guts later!

'Nimblefire!', Sophie casts the spell on Lok. The boy starts to waggle his legs quickly, as if he was born in the water or tried to surpass Michael Phelps. Hell, I'm a genius after all… even if only accidentally.

'Not fast enough!', Dante dampens my enthusiasm. Thanks. You always know how to lift my spirit! Couldn't you let it pass just that one time, when I have a feeling that I can avoid being crushed like a tortilla! Just that one thing before we die, you moron! 'Caliban, Hyperstride!'

The Titan like an agile dolphin joins Lok, making a big difference – the boat accelerates greatly. However, what is that compared to the speed the rocks want to lock themselves with?!

'Here it comes!', I warn the others.

'More speed!', Dante yells back, but we both know we won't go any faster. He convinced me that I can write my last will now. And reveal my last wish, if I want to.

I've got many, but there's a special one I'd love to say out loud now.

I wish I could kick your ass, you damned daredevil! You could have not gamble with my life! Similarly, you're endangering those brats who look up to you! Ahhh, how could have I been so stupid to almost start to like you!? Mainly due to your nice butt?!

I twitch when I hear a thud.

'Lok!', Sophie squeals.

I told you so! He shouldn't have gone there, everyone knows he's not a born swimmer… I close my eyelids, trying not to think about how the water will turn red soon, filled with pieces of his liver, T-shirt and trainers. A second later I'll turn into fish food…

My heart comes to my throat… and then…

'WE'VE MADE IT!', Cherit yells with disbelief.

What?!

I open my eyes and stare back. That's unbelievable! We leave the Symplegades far behind! They didn't crush us like a French pastry! And that's all thanks to Caliban who stopped the rocks before they changed us into slab cakes. And sacrificed himself to save us.

'Barely…', I choke out, taking my white hands off the barrier. Luckily, defeating the Titan doesn't end with seeing his guts floating all around. But what's up with Lok?!

'Wow, thanks, Dante…', his fair-haired head emerges from under the deck. 'Nice save!'

'Thanks, Caliban', Dante responds to that, catching the Titan's returning power to the amulet. I guess who stands behind the success of that crazy operation. The Titan wiser than his master…

'Wait!', Sophie's voice stops me from an outburst of negative emotions which gathered within me during last few minutes. 'Where are we?'

I swallow a stream of curses forming in my mouth, which I was intending to throw above that idiots' heads, and remind myself that I asked for that on my own, acting like a total wimp and catching the first helping hand to get myself out of the depth of depression. I reach for the holotome and check our location.

'Sutos Island', I say, analyzing the map, 'and that bay…'

'…is the perfect place to sink the Argo so no one can find it', Dante finishes my sentence.

'Great!', Lok dreams only about some action, something that will take him closer to his father. 'Let's go check it out!'

'We must be cautious', Dante dampens his emotions. 'Sutos is in the midst of the civil war.'

'Sounds dangerous', Sophie remarks. You bet, princess. A civil war means quite a shithouse, chaos and mess all around. And any certainty who's our friend or foe. Most of the time, it turns out that in a situation like this, everyone cares only for themselves. That's why we should also be prepared to act like that. Alright. That's nothing new for me, but for the brats, always counting on him, it's gonna be a hard lesson.

'To be save, we'll dock on the far side of the island and sneak up on foot', Vale decides.

_Sneak up_, wooo-hooah. Finally a plan which fits my working style, not diving in the whirlpool of events head on.

**The same day, 15:51**

**Sutos Island city**

**The Aegean Sea**

'All citizens must be registered within the Organization!', the megaphone fulminated, sticking out above the helicopter's propeller standing right in the center of the market and surrounded by neat buildings. 'Now step up!' A guy in a full outfit which associated only with army hurried up one of the hesitating natives. The man reluctantly laid his hand on the screen of the open computer, which probably read his data from his fingerprint and saved the info on the hard drive. 'Everyone should report by sundown!', the soldier threw it to the rest of frightened locals, standing in a queue and waiting for their turn to fulfill the forced duty. 'No excuses!'

Zhalia, who had been observing the square for few minutes, leaning her head out from her hideout (a wall of the building she had stuck to), shivered from indignation.

'The audacity!', she hissed. 'They're treating them like prisoners…'

Lok's face showed that he agreed with her completely, however, he didn't say a word, just lowered his head sadly, lost in his severe thoughts which must've been aroused by that painful scene. The boy was so similar to his father, after all… Eathon had been just that kind of man – usually he had been winning the others' hearts due to his gentle, kind personality, some people had even regarded him as a bungler and a wimp, but when it had been coming to being a witness of breaking human laws, hurting the weak, breaching the moral code, the man had always proved that he hadn't lacked the determination and perseverance to fight for what had thought was right. He had instilled it in his son for sure, but the young Lambert hadn't had many occasions to use those advices. He had lived in the world ruled by constitutions, law, systems of prizes and punishments, guarantying quite a high feeling of security under the countries' wing. The boy was also taken care of by his loving family, protecting him against every danger. Now, far away from the known peace, the kid approached with a mess created by the lack of humanitarian rules and the willfulness of ambitious individuals who dreamed of authority, and he couldn't understand how anyone, even pushed by their own desires and pursuits, could have led to such a destabilization.

Dante wanted to say something comforting to him, to raise his spirit somehow, but his attention got caught by the noises in the dead end nearby. He prowled like a cat and stuck his head out from behind the corner. A man with ruffled, dirty blond hair was raising his pirate-like cutlass (some things hadn't changed over so many years on that small island, isolated from the world!) above a hunched, frightened woman; her groceries laid in a shambles all around her feet.

'You heard me!', the man yelled. 'Hand over everything you've got and you won't get hurt!'

Dante was about to rush and defend the defenseless Sutos inhabitant tempestuously, but…

'Augerfrost!'

The persecutor dropped onto the ground like a rag doll; two silhouettes casted shadows over his unconscious body.

'We said: no trouble!', a hoarse voice ordered; it belonged to a tough guy for sure.

'Anyone causing trouble gets trouble!', added another male in a warning manner, taking a step forward and finally coming into Dante's visual field.

'Thank you, sir…', the shocked woman uttered, collecting her stuff blindly and not taking her eye off the unexpected saviours, who didn't look more gently than her attacker: tall, unshaven, muscular and dogged.

'We're just doing our job', the first one said and suddenly, he seemed familiar to Dante. Vale sticked out just a little bit more when he continued: 'You should report to registration.'

Dante looked the soldier's uniforms and faces up and down again. He noticed a part of a red beard; he remembered seeing its owner few days ago, in the group of men led by a fair-haired bruiser…

'Grier again', he murmured to himself, then he backed and returned to the rest.

Lok was still staring at his feet, not wanting to witness this pitiful performance, vilipending human dignity. Zhalia, however, staked it out carefully.

'Once again, the strong have overpowered the weak', she commented bitterly, knitting her curved eyebrows.

Her narrowed eyes were burning with greater fury every moment. To subdue her raging emotions, she dig her nails into her palms and bit her lower lip; a small, bleeding scab appeared on them. She shivered out of anger, which she couldn't hide despite her tries. Dante could cope with Lok's behavior somehow, but he didn't expect Zhalia to react as emotionally, if not even stronger than Lok. Had she, just like Lambert, never seen how unfair the power apparatus acted? Her, that experienced woman who seemed not to give a damn about the whole world? Could she detest it so much without a serious reason? Dante had taken a closer look on her profile in the Foundation database. She had been in Saudi Arabia, South Korea, China, so many countries where the rulers arrogated themselves with the power to control the individuals. Had she forgotten what she had seen? Didn't she want to remember, 'cause it moved her too strongly?

He reached his hand out to put it onto her shoulder in a soothing manner, but he resigned seeing someone approaching them; the person was dressed in Sutos clothes, wrapped in the shawl like a hijab, up to her eyes.

'Any luck, Sophie?', Dante asked, knowing who was hiding under the disguise due to their rare color..

'Well', the girl started, uncovering her face, 'I was able to chat with some locals.'

'Let's talk in a place a little more private, shall we?', he silenced her.

Sophie accepted with a nod and sneaked out of the city borders. Lok stopped leaning on the wall and followed in her footsteps. After a moment, however, he stopped and looked above his shoulder at the anxious citizens.

'We must help them', he said in a nagging whisper.

'We do, and we will', Dante guaranteed him reassuringly, 'but we can't act without a plan, especially being in the minority.'

Lok wasn't very pleased by that answer, but it was enough to make him calmer due to the promise of doing something. He followed the Casterwill in a more confident pace. Dante escorted them with his stare; he stated that they shouldn't duck out of the town in a group not to raise suspicions, and was waiting for his turn, leaning on the wall and hidden in its shadow.

'What are you gonna do?'

He twitched, hearing Zhalia's emotionless, dispassionate voice. He turned to her. She continued to stand still and keep an eye on the market.

'I don't know yet', he shrugged, then crossed his arms on his chest.

'And you won't', she shook her head. 'There are no good solutions in such situations. If we fight, we will get hurt, as well as the citizens.'

'I don't want to fight', he responded shortly. 'I've got another plan.'

'Just like always', she mocked him. 'What will you propose to them? A chess match? Who wins, calls the shots? I imagine those emotions over the chessboard…'

'You can say so', he murmured. 'Maybe I'll just choose another method', he smiled only with a corner of his mouth, because he didn't really feel like laughing. 'I'm not a good cheesplayer.'

'Oh, stop it', she spitted out. 'Do you really think the Organization considers the possibility of mediation? They've already shown that they won't hesitate to use force, even towards the civilians.'

Dante opened his mouth, intending to tell her about the scene witnessed in the dead end and his doubts about the nature of Sutos takeover raised by it. However, he resigned, because he hadn't settled his thoughts in order yet. He preferred not to voice his thoughts unless he found just a shade of proof that he was right.

'Besides', she carried on, taking advantage on his silence, 'we're here not as a commando fighting evil. We've got a mission, and we should take care of it first, instead of playing Power Rangers and…'

Dante got stunned. He hadn't expected such a volte-face. Just a moment before, Zhalia had seemed as if she had been going to rush and jump between the locals and the soldiers, shield the first ones and scatter the second ones to the four winds, unmindful to the consequences. Meanwhile now… Instead of that unhampered anger, he sensed only cold, indifference and calculation.

'So you're expecting me to turn a blind eye on the whole balls-up and go about my own business instead?', he responded with a question, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 'To pretend that I don't see anything wrong? I'm not able to do so, Zhalia.'

'Unlike you', he wanted to add, but it stuck in his throat. He didn't know why; he really itched to throw that remark out his mouth. To goad her to explain. To understand why she had suddenly refused to do anything. After all, she cared as much as they did. Why did she pretend not to? Why was she trying to cover her concern with the mask of a tough woman who had seen a thing or two and now she wasn't moved or touched by anything? And why did she expect everyone to act the same, to pass over it so lightly? That they would overcome the catharsis, spit their bad feelings out in heavy words and regarding it as a proper reaction, enough as a proof of their own endurance towards the callousness, they would accept the injustice? He'd give much to lighten that spark of rebellion against the cruelty and discrimination he had seen in her eyes before. To bring back that rightful wrath which had been almost electrifying the air around her, that anger which had melted her icy pose and shown him the girl's other face. The face which sometimes, very rarely, he saw under the areola of dryness and impassivity. He wanted to believe that it was there. That it was not only a phantasm, an embodiment for his wishes, created only to justify Zhalia and her strange mood swings. That expect of the mercenary, detached and haughty woman, there's also something valuable in her. Something which, despite the fact how disturbing she was for him and how strange ways she walked, still was making him treat her as one of them.

Zhalia only smirked tartly and straightened up. When she turned away from the queue of the locals, her eyes were coated in the usual layer of ice and unconcealed derision.

'Detective Vale, sir', she said ironically, 'you are irreclaimable.'

Though it was meant to be an offence, she failed. He hadn't found any reason to deny it. He agreed with her completely in that matter.

'I know', he shrugged. 'And I'm quite proud of it.'

Zhalia only pursed her lips out of irritation.

**The same day, 16:12**

**The outskirts**

**Sutos Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'The Organization landed this morning and took over by force. They secure the phone lines, the dogs even use Titans on the locals!', Sophie was throwing out feverishly, wanting to tell them as fast as possible what she had learnt. She had boiled from excitement since they had left the city and hidden in the nearby grove. There, sheltered from the unwanted witnesses of their meeting, could start the conference, although they hadn't forgotten about the additional precautions. The kids and Zhalia were dressed in Sutos clothes, only Dante had stayed in his usual outfit, despite their persuasions that if they had been forced to look ridiculous, they should look ridiculous together. However, Zhalia had said that a guy dressed in such a longcoat looked ridiculous nevertheless, so they had left him alone.

'I knew it!', Lok stated with a stout face, clenching his hand. 'The Huntik Foundation is all about freedom, right? We've gotta kick the Organization out of here!', he accentuated, banging his fists against his knee.

'For now, we have to worry about our mission, the Argo', Dante interrupted them, concentrated, with his brow furrowed. 'Sophie, did you learn anything?'

'Just as you thought', she admitted. 'The local fishermen there's an evidence of the big shipwreck in the bay.'

Dante nodded.

'These Suits are being led by Grier', he informed, shocking the rest of the team. 'They're most likely concentrated in the old warlord's mansion which overlooks the bay', he pointed at the map, not giving them enough time to ask how he had learnt it and what to do then. 'Lok, Sophie, Cherit, you three will keep the Organization busy', he decided quickly.

'Yeah, I'll show them a thing or two!', the boy assured him ferociously, just looking for an occasion to beat the Suits.

'If you get to fight out in the open, don't try anything fancy', Vale advised them, a bit disturbed by this assiduousness. He started to doubt if he was doing right to send those three to deal with Grier's soldiers. Lok had been making mistakes even in his best condition, and now, when the anger was clouding his thoughts… 'You should rely on straight combat Titans, like Sabriel, Freelancer or Lindorm', he added to calm himself down a bit.

'But who's going to dive down to find the Argo?', Sophie insisted, looking at him enquiringly; she didn't have any objection to the plan. Though… maybe she was actually trying to make him realize that he had placed her in the wrong team, that she was the one who should take care of the mission? Her self-confidence was becoming almost annoying. Especially because it led the girl to the wrong conclusions that she would deal with anything, to exaggerate her abilities. It made her get into unexpected troubles, often too serious to be dealt with alone, even with her mentioned skills.

He had chosen a better candidate for that task.

'Zhalia', he responded; the woman twitched and raised her head. 'With her skills, she has the best chance of sneaking past the municipal guards Grier has recruited', he continued, not revealing the true motives of his choice. Of course those he told them about were real, but… there was something more. Dante felt that Zhalia didn't approve of his plan; that though she had shown discontent towards the way the Organization agents had been treating the natives, she wasn't going to become involved in the politics and local conflicts. He knew that if he asked her, she'd do it; but without dedication. The exaggerated fanaticism wasn't right, but in such situation, just a sliver of good will came in handy. However, it had burnt out in Zhalia as fast as it had gotten lit.

The woman apparently accepted the arrangement. Sophie showed her demur with her whole body, though.

'What's with that look?', the operative Moon threw combatively. 'Think I'm gonna keep all the treasure for myself?'

'I wouldn't put it past you…', the Casterwill responded pugnaciously.

'Well, at least Dante trusts me', Zhalia cut back haughtily, holding back her irritation

Vale peeked aside, embarrassed. Did he trust Zhalia? Sometimes he was 100 percent sure, like when he had asked her to deliver DeFoe's amulet to the Foundation. But then she did something which made him preoccupied, acted so incomprehensibly that he didn't understand the ways her thoughts and emotions flowed… And then he was engulfed by doubts if Zhalia really deserved so much familiarity he treated her with. The situation was more complicated due to the fact that privately, he didn't hesitate to admit that he liked her. Even with her odd habits. And maybe even more due to them. She was different than the women he knew. More mysterious. Surprising. Unpredictable. But not in that coquettish, fake way. Every day, unknowingly, she was uncovering another face in front of him. Some of them repulsed him, the others made him amused, and another ones… fascinated.

'Nobody's perfect', Sophie commented, fitting in the flow of his thoughts.

Yeah, nobody was perfect. Zhalia had a right not to get thrilled by the Sutos fate as much as the rest. She had a right to pretend that she didn't care. Because Dante knew it wasn't true. He noticed. And that was all that mattered.

'You haven't told us what you're going to do, Dante', Cherit brought his thought back onto the right track.

'That's right', Lok joined him suspiciously.

Vale shook himself off the sidetrack wondering and responded calmly:

'Obviously, I'm going to face Grier alone.'

He heard Zhalia's snarl, which sounded exactly as if she had been trying to emphasize without words: 'I juuust kneeew it'.

'Didn't you just tell us our mission was more important than challenging the Organization?', Sophie reminded him strictly.

'I was actually hoping to reason them', he explained, observing the fortress looming in the distance; plans of getting there started to appear in his mind, 'but if I don't keep Grier out of the way, we'll lose. So if talking doesn't work, we fight… to the finish', he added more quietly.

'I don't like that plan', the girl sighed.

'It's not supposed to be liked by us', Zhalia cut. 'It's supposed to work.'

Though her expression was saying clearly: 'I don't like it too'.

**The same day, 16:51**

**The ruler's mansion**

**Sutos Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

Dante had been counting every heartbeat for half an hour. The years of experience had taught him patience, but not he couldn't wait for the signal. He was tormented by a strange feeling that in all the chaos on Sutos, the true reason of the whole mess was giving him the slip; that taking over the island by the Organization hadn't been just a next act of violence but had a hidden agenda, invisible from behind the cover which they had labeled as vandalism, mugging, breaching human laws and dignity. He still remembered how the two soldiers had come to the attacked woman's aid, and he was well aware that he hadn't seen any Organization agent acting like that until then. They always played hardball and didn't hesitate to step on people, not bothered by the victims, they were even creating new ones…What had changed since their last meeting?

He stuck his head above the battlements of the tower and noticed that the gate guardians had disappeared; there were also clouds of smoke visible on the horizon. The noises of fighting from the shore proved that the kids had taken their duties seriously; however, the soldiers also weren't going to surrender. Dante decided not to push it and don't waste any minute to make the kids need to defend themselves as short as possible.

He emerged from his hideout on the walls; Grier was already coming out of the building. If Dante stuck out far enough, he could have spitted onto his head. The bruiser looked to the distance with his eyes narrowed and gritted his teeth.

'I'll find out who's behind this', his resonant voice sounded like a whisper from up there.

Dante didn't wait any longer.

'I found you!', he announced, jumping in front of the Organization operative fearlessly.

Many people would step back, twitch, do something which would tell their fear off. But not Grier.

'Dante Vale!', he recognized him easily, furrowing his brow. 'You must be here to fight me!'

He didn't seem frightened by that, besides, Dante didn't expect that from him. Grier stood in front of him unmoved, broad-shouldered, muscular, with wide, protruding cheekbones, furrowed face and piercing eyes. He'd look dignified if not the robes enveloping him – olive green, intricately pinned with silver buckles, wrapping the strongman so tightly that the material barely handled it. The image was filled with a decorated cap crowning Grier's temples. The whole attire contrasted much with Dante's opinion about Grier. How was that possible that such a concrete, down-to-earth man let someone to dress him in a costume from a lame theater's dressing room?! And that tunic… Vale couldn't help it, a laughter bubbled in his throat.

'What?!', the muscleman growled.

'Nice outfit', Dante responded, now cackling openly.

Grier gritted his teeth.

'And who's saying that! A man in a dung-colored duster!', he cut back, infuriated, taking a swing.

Dante felt it coming. He blocked the blow, dodged the next one, the third one barely missed his temple. He used Grier's swing and a break he took to regain balance, jumped to the safe distance, not taking his eyes off the opponent, just like he'd follow the lion released from the cage.

'You were supposed to fight me, Vale!', Grier shouted. 'Instead you're sending kids against my men, and running away from me! What a leader you are?!'

As if to claim that, something exploded on the shore. The smell of something burning reached even there, the screech of fighting Titans made Dante's hair on the neck bristle.

'Do you hear that?!', Grier yelled. 'Aren't you going to try and help them?'

'They can take care of themselves', Vale responded haughtily, though he wasn't so sure about. A part of him wanted to flee and support the teenagers, screwing his reputation and the whole plan. But more than worried about Lok and Sophie, he felt shocked by Grier's behavior. Why was he so interested in Dante's comrades? Why was he trying to direct his thought to them? To disturb him with anxiety about them? No, he didn't even try to take advantage on the moment when Dante had peeked at the column of smoke, though he could have smashed him like a tomato... He just stood in front of him and eyed him up, raising his head proudly.

'I'm here to find out what you're up to', Dante added without thinking twice.

'The Organization has taken this island. Nothing more', Grier informed him shortly, looking at him with his eyes as bright as the sky above them and clear like the waters in the bay. Without a slight of insincerity which stained the Organization operatives' eyes so often. Though… sometimes that innocence was the greatest false, cleverly prepared decoy for the naïve ones.

'Subjugation?', Dante misrepresented Grier's words on purpose, wanting to discover the true nature of his invasion on Sutos through his reaction at those words. 'That's the kind of thing that I prevent… by any means necessary', he added warningly.

'So why not make a move?', the fair-haired leader responded, apparently goading him

Dante ignored that loutish bluster.

'You inspire loyalty in your men', he continued without rush. 'Though they're thugs, I've seen you ordered them to show mercy to the weak…', he said, wanting to prove that the man's actions had had their audience.

'Without order, there's no peace, no security', the strongman spoke strictly.

Dante senses that he was avoiding to make the matter clear, that he was hiding something.

'Did you get that out of the fortune cookie?', he mocked him, a bit tired of the man's evasions. He counted that the derision would touch the weakest spot, and then Grier would spill the beans, revealing the info the detective needed to complete the puzzle the Sutos case had become in his mind.

'Life showed me the need for order!', the fair-haired ruler shouted.

'So that's a thing from the past, right?', Dante guessed; the opponent had reacted just in the way he had expected him to. He started to show his hand slowly.

'I'm not seeking a confidant in you!', the Organization operative barked.

'NOOOOOO!'

The retort got stuck in Dante's throat when he heard the blood-freezing scream followed by a deafening roar from the shore. He got tongue-tied, suddenly all the clever plans of tricks and investigation had vanished from his head.

'Lok!', he shouted, realizing who the voice and the roar belonged to. Lindorm… Lindorm must've gotten out of control, maybe he turned against his summoner! It had been a bad idea to encourage Lambert to use him! He tried to see the blonde head, but the crowd on the coast had thickened, looked like a cluster of ants attacking the other insects to tear it into pieces…

He dashed towards the beach, but Grier came into his way.

'If you want to help them, you'll have to defeat me first', he announced emotionlessly, looking at him as if he had been trying to say that Dante had had his chance to retreat; he hadn't used it, so now he would take the consequences.

'I may be able to arrange that!', Vale responded coldly, angry that right when the kids needed him, he had to take care of Grier. Luckily, he had an ace up his sleeve just for such occasions.

'If you won't make the first move, I will…!', the local ruler started.

He cut short, making a stifled shout when the ground started to slide from under his feet. He spread his arms, trying to regain balance; one of his hands got caught in a strong grip.

'Grier, I've already made the first move', Dante commented lightly, observing how his opponent was struggling in the Metagolem's hands; the golden speckles were still falling down the collosus' body. 'I took a liberty on building the mansion on the sand dune!'

'You're not going easy on me this time!', Grier threatened him, hanging in the air. 'Hyperstride!'

He pulled away from Metagolem with a kick and released himself from his grip; Dante didn't let him run away, though. He lashed at him before he landed on the sand.

'Show respect for your opponent!', he growled, exchanging some quick, accurate blows. 'You must fight with everything you have!'

He didn't have to say that; Grier apparently was pushing himself to the limits. His tough fists had left some marks on Dante's forearms, pulsating with pain. During their previous meetings, Grier had been brutal, but not as ferocious as he was now. Dante noticed the change of his attitude and had an urge to discover what was the reason for that. Of course it had something to do with Sutos, but what exactly?… It didn't seem like a mere Organization mission…

'Agreed!', the man responded, landing on the sand and drawing an amulet out of his robes. 'Charge, Breaker!'

Dante wasn't pleased with the Titan's appearance; from among all the pets the Organization agents had in store, this was one of the better specimens he had fought against. And the most troublesome ones as well. He sent Metagolem against it, but when he take an aim at the bear, it ran away; the colossus' giant fist got stuck in the wall. Dante saw it as a signal to withdraw, a perfect chance to try to get to Lok and Sophie. Unfortunately, Grier wasn't going to let him free.

'Never my superiors knew enough to order me to fight with my full power!', he shouted, catching up with his rival.

Dante had known already that the runaway was pointless; Grier wouldn't resign from the challenge. Vale suddenly jumped and before the confused opponent managed to realize what was going on, he got hit in the jaw. Dante stopped running, bracing his feet against the ground, and took out an amulet.

'Good!', he commented impetuously. 'Now let's see if you can fight both Caliban and Metagolem!'

Grier, panting, lifted himself from the ground, moving his strained mandible.

'As prince Zan Grier of Sutos', he roared, 'I have been passed the royal fighting Titan, Megataur!'

Dante observed dumbstruck how a cloud of green energy arose from the amulet and quickly took shape of a large, anthropomorphic bull with an overgrown, shaggy head, big fists, curved horns and golden chains entangling its powerful wrists. However, he was more shocked by Grier's words than by the Titan.

'A prince, huh?...', he repeated in disbelief, then he shook his head, judging that it wasn't the best time to get lost in wonders. 'Well, I guess it explains the makeover!', he added, regaining confidence.

'Don't you dare to offend the Sutos royal gown one more time or I will…!', Grier threatened him.

'Not _one_ time, Grier', Dante interrupted him sarcastically, preparing for the battle. 'Not one time.'

**The same day, 17:01**

**The Sutos bay **

**The Aegean Sea**

Damn it, I knew that I shouldn't have agreed on such a division of duties…

Of course, it doesn't mean that I'd send Lok or Sophie to the Argo. Lambert would drown in a mere shoal, and that sapient princess deserves to do the dirty job and get her ass kicked by the Suits. But why did Dante have to go alone? He can get hurt. It's not that I really care, but you know, he's useful sometimes. He is able fix the motorboat, has freaking strong Titans and can whack anyone's mug himself. And it'd be a pity to lose one of a few activities during the trip, I mean contemplating his ripped muscles…

Besides, hell, I don't want him to rot futilely in the sand of Sutos. I've got a fancier alternative for him. After all, Klaus doesn't lack finesse in torturing the captives. Grier is a bruiser type, he solves the problems by force. Hit 'em and dig their graves with the same spade. No imagination and creativity. Dante is such an original guy that he deserves paying some more attention to him even if you're just supposed to finish him off…

See what thoughts come to my mind during scuba diving! One could think that I'd rave over the underwater beauty, dream about the sunken Atlantis or other nonsense like that. But no, actually I'm not in the mood. My legs are aching due to moving them up and down, I start to miss normal breathing, the tight suit sticks between my buttocks (it irritates me less than those local rigs I had to wear before, but still); I just want to do my job and get back to the surface.

But here's the Argo! Oh gee, it's huge! How am I gonna find anything in a ship this big?! I always get such sucking tasks! I could've swap places with Sophie. Compared to examining every square centimeter of the Argo, kicking the Suits' butts seems like a great fun.

I swim inside cautiously, observing the perished ceiling balks. I hope that since they lasted out on their places for such a long time, they won't fall onto my back, crushing me and making me join the whole procession of floaters. I wonder if I would meet the drowned from Titanic? If Jack Dawson really existed and looked exactly like the young DiCaprio, I wouldn't even have anything against.

I swim into the corridor, the floating alga tickle my cheeks. I look around, brushing them off my face, but when I stare at them, I've got a strange feeling that they act as guide posts… I come up where the stairs lead. The captain's quarter should be this way.

'Farslip!', I hit the door with the spell; they open easily.

I get into a room with few items placed on the pedestals; some metal rubbish, there's a lot of such things on every wreck. I pass by them without a glance. There is another door behind them; I try to open them the same way as before, but the spell reflects against them, I barely dodge it. Oh-hooo, this attraction isn't allowed without the ticket? There are two options: I have to try harder to get to that chamber or… I shouldn't seek _there_. Some kind of a subtle allusion that I should look around me first. I take a closer look at the items. An arrow stuck in the stone; a golden apple; a gilt statue of a ram… what is that supposed to mean?! Is there any regularity in the arrangement of some collector's findings?!

Hm, let's think. It wasn't _some_ collector, but Jason. An ancient hero…

Why do I have to deal with this?! I don't have a clue what it's supposed to mean. Alright, let's rack your brain a bit more, Zhalia… Why people surround themselves with souvenirs? Because they're symbols. What the old times decorations depicted the most often? Images of gods, heroes and their deeds, of course. So those things here… I guess they are 'bout Greek legends…

The golden apple… It reminds me of the Garden of Hesperides, but… Damn, there were so many apples in the mythology! Maybe it's rather the one from the Chairon's feast? That trinket with the inscription: 'For the most beautiful', thrown among the goddesses by the offended Eris, a deity of discord, caused a commotion leading as far as to the Trojan War… No, it's a completely different story. I'll leave it.

The arrow… Many heroes used bows. Heracles? Probably, he was like Chuck Norris of ancient times. He was present during the Argonauts' journey, but he wasn't the leading character. It's all about Jason the whole time…

And Jason was after the golden fleece! That's the key to the riddle!

I look for a way to check the right item; well, there wasn't a place destined for writing your answer in that quiz. I find a golden coin, put it next to the ram.

Bingo! The hatch which resisted my spell opens so easily as if it just waited for the opportunity.

I approach it and reach for the chest glistening to me from the inside. I'll see its content later; I don't have time to spare, I'd rather not check how long the ship is under guarantee.

And in truth, I should just take it to teach Sophie a lesson… She constantly makes biting remarks about my suspicious actions! If she continues that, the male part of the group, still tricked by my feminine charm, will notice something. Even Dante didn't close her mouth, didn't prove that I'm a fully fledged member of the team like the rest, just pushed me out of their sight. I don't know if I should consider it a testimony of trust, even despite everything that I declared to Sophie so bellicosely. Maybe I just got scored out 'cause I didn't praise his suicidal plans to fight the Organization for the freedom of Sutos and turned out to be a cold-hearted bitch in that Captain America's eyes?

If they already have such an opinion about me regardless of what I do, another misdemeanor won't change anything, just claim their beliefs. I'd just lie that I hadn't found anything. They wouldn't get what they really wanted!

Suddenly, a hunch makes me turn around; my head almost falls between snares of yawning, bloody red jaws full of teeth. I sneak out before they clench on my neck, biting my head off. A shark?! In the Aegean Sea?! I sense some kind of a magical trick…

I hit the attacker right in its oblong head. It clears off, but I have no illusions - it'll come back for sure, seeing such an easy prey to get for dinner. I don't wait for it to pulls itself together. I catch the chest, but before I get it out the hole, I've got company.

No, not another one! The pissed-off fish brought colleagues… But they won't get me that easily! Can't sneak out on a sneak!

'Raypulse!', I shout, letting the mouthpiece out from between my lips.

**The same day, 17:29**

**Sutos Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'Thanks', I throw to King Basilisk, arduously making his way through the bottom overgrown with alga. 'If not you, I'd have ended up as fish food. And in vain.'

The reptile responds only by snarling. Carrying two sharks tires him a bit.

'At least we'll have sushi', I continue, sitting comfortably on his head. 'I deserve that after I nearly died to get a ramshackle scroll and a box full of trash.'

I wince, peeking at the corner-pieced chest, sending reddish and pinkish sparks in the Greek sunbeams. I am disappointed by its content and I'm not going to hide it.

We approach the shore from where sounds of battle and screams reach us. I recognize Lok's and Sophie's voices.

'Hurry up, will you?', I reel to the lizard king. 'I know that those jackasses aren't worth it, but I've already done more stupid things to keep my cover.'

King Basilisk makes faster and longer jumps, tearing the alga off the bottom, spattering pebbles and splashing water. Thanks to his efforts, we reach the destination in a right moment to let me fire some spells right at the attacking Suits' backs.

'YOU MADE IT!', Cherit, chuffed by seeing me, or by the unexpected save, squeals, while the stunned kids are observing the virile guys dropping like flies. Much to my surprise, the audience is bigger – in the people gathered on the coast, apart from Grier's soldiers, I recognize (mostly due to their clothes) also the Sutos locals. What's going on here?! We're trying to free them and out of grace, they're helping the Suits defeat us?! Did they go nuts?!

'Did you find anything good?', Lok passes over the event very lightly; I see that I rescue them too often to make them show gratefulness every time… alright, I swear it'll change in the future.

'I got the logbook', I respond carelessly, as if I hadn't fought for it against the sea monsters, just bought it in the supermarket, 'but the stupid chest has nothing but shark's teeth and some amulets in it…', I add, sifting the talismans between my fingers along with sand.

'Zhalia, those are dragon's teeth!', the excited Sophie corrects me. 'In the legend, Jason plants them in a field…'

I look aside, ashamed that someone like her had to lecture me. Of course, there was something like that in the mythology…

'… and out grow warriors', I recall, focusing on the amulet. I sense its rumbling power, as if it was shouting the Titan's name. I finally catch it and cry out: 'Hoplite!'

The amulet really doesn't turn out to be completely useless, as I thought before. When the light green, golden-pigmented energy forms in the air, it takes a shape of a half-lion, half-man in a golden breastplate, arms-pieces and helmet, with a sword and a shield incrusted with emeralds, resembling its amulet. Lok and Sophie's faces are enough to confirm the Titan's glory.

Their raptures are interrupted by a clack; it's the chest thrown by me onto the shore clattering against the pebbles.

'Don't say I never gave you anything', I throw acidly, looking at the meaningfully.

Lok has the grace to show embarrassment; he lowers his head, ashamed. It's not him who should feel guilty the most, but Sophie proves that she has no decency, 'cause she doesn't even look confused.

'Well, thanks, but…', the boy hesitates, taking the amulet, 'what can these guys do?'

'Don't worry!', Sophie calms him down. 'Hoplites are easy to invoke but powerful when they work together!'

'Just like us!', Cherit comments cheerfully; well, I'd have some objections against this statement…

'Hoplites!', Lok and Sophie doesn't need any better assurances; they make a good use of their gifts and in a blink of an eye, there's not one, but three lion warriors standing in a row and ready to serve their masters.

'Stop those guys from attacking, but don't hurt them!', Lok orders them, showing the locals.

'Lok, quick, look over there!', Cherit suddenly attracts his attention and points at the distance.

I also look this way and a cold shiver shoots through me. I recognize that silhouette wrapped in a brown duster, almost indistinguishable from the soil. Dante! He's still fighting Grier! Why?! I thought that he'd already made a minced meat out of him! Meanwhile… Vale is kneeling down as if he was barely holding on, and Grier… I feel my flesh creeps when the guy pounces at him like a wild beast, ready to crush his prey, tear him apart, rip into tiny pieces, and bury his remains in the sand or scatter them around the fortress to let the crows peck them…

And I told Dante not to fool around…!

My heart throbs madly against my ribs when I jump onto the sand, try to make a step forward, but I trip over the flippers. I try to take them off by tugging them violently, but the diving suit, wet, heavy with water, forbids me to do so, sticking to my body.

'DON'T STAND HERE LIKE FOOLS!', I yell to the brats. 'MOVE YOUR ASSES OR HE'LL SMASH HIM! WHAT'RE YOU STARING AT, DO ANYTH…'

Out of the blue, I cut short, choking; my mouth gets filled by dust. I close my lids and cover my face with my arm not to let it get into my eyes as well; the gust is pulling my hair, sand keeps sticking to my wet suit. When the blast suddenly stops, I try to get in touch with what's going on, blinking. From behind the curtain of tears, caused by the speckles which got under my lashes nevertheless, on the top of the dune, I notice a tall, blurred silhouette, with the tails of the duster flapping behind.

And you know what? Suddenly, I stop giving a shit about that freakingly tight suit, sand in my teeth, hair and ears, the nonsensical search in the depths… and I'm not sure why… but I guess that's due to the fact that he's alive. And well enough to get his butt kicked by me when we'll get out of trouble. And then, to let me carry on my secret mission… Yes, that's why. I think…

'Now it's our chance!', Lok realizes. 'Sophie, let's forget these guys and take out Grier!'

'Our leader's opponent falters!', the Sutos governor remarks, surprising me. 'Let's finish him!

And with one accord, both my team and the natives rush to the two rivals.

'Hey!', I shout to them, plodding in the uncomfortable flippers awkwardly. 'Wait for me!'

A hiss is heard from behind me; it's King Basilisk who made himself comfortable on the shore, surrounded by his underwater preys, and now observes me with a strange expression on his mug, which in the reptile world can be taken as a sign of amusement.

'At least you could not make fun of me', I growl, embarrassed by my own Lok Lambert-like clumsiness.

King Basilisk responds only by showing his teeth in a perverse, lizard grin.

**The same day, 17:34**

**Sutos Island**

**The Aegean Sea**

'I've waited my whole life to fight an opponent like you, Dante Vale', Grier announced, putting his hands on his sides and flexing his chest proudly, though it was flowing hardly due to his heavy breath.

'I think we finally understand each other', Dante responded, panting as well.

He had never met such a fierce rival. For so many years, he had thought that it was struggling with Montehue which had been making him do his best. It turned out, however, that compared to Grier, Montehue was just a teddy bear next to a grizzly, maybe because the old friend, despite his threats, had never tried to finish him off for good; he had been focused rather on annoying the younger colleague and proving who was better. The duel with Grier was of a different nature. Each of them fought for what was important for him. Grier defended the order which he had suddenly brought to the island, not using the methods completely approved in the Foundation; Dante opposed this vision with his own about the unrestrained freedom, without the dictatorship of anyone, even the man whom he had seen in the different light today.

As they fought, his opinion about Grier was slowly changing. Until now, he had regarded him as the Organizaion's faithful minion, a dull muscleman serving as the bodyguard and the strongman to move obstacles and whack the opponents' mouth if they resisted; as someone who didn't have his own brains and only carried out someone else's orders, finding pleasure in the physical abuse. However, he had understood quickly that he had judged the Organization operative unfairly, looking at him and taking the action movies into account; in such productions, there were always someone like that among the bad guys: a brainless muscleman acting as the cannon fodder despite all the potential hidden in his immense body.

Grier couldn't be counted among such fools. He knew perfectly how to use his strength. Though the nature didn't grudge him height nor weight, he overcame their limits somehow, moving with a speed incredible for someone of his size. His blows weren't accidental, it was hard to turn them against him. The coordination of his muscles made Dante stunned, as well the reflex he parried every Dante's sneak attack with and sensed the right moment to summon a Titan or use a spell. It wasn't a chaotic brawl of a mere meathead; Grier must've worked on his fighting style. The effects were terrifying.

Despite that, Dante didn't fear him. The only feelings he felt were: excitement that he had to rely on his every power source to survive, making use of his natural talent to improvise; and curiosity what was the reason Grier was protecting his beliefs so strongly, reach to the standbys of his might, which he had kept hidden on purpose even from the Organization superior. Strangely, Vale didn't think that it was an enemy standing in front of him, who could finish him off in every second. There wasn't a place for hatred in Grier's clear, intensively turquoise eyes; he just wanted to protect what he believed in.

However, Dante wasn't going to make it easier for him and clear off the stage. He sized him up; Grier gave the stare back and they both knew that it wasn't the end; that even if they were supposed to fall from exhaustion, any of them wouldn't retreat earlier, wouldn't satisfy the other one. Dante had to continue that fight. He had to understand finally what pushed Grier to such actions. And since the talk during sipping tea wasn't an option, only the fight left.

'Caliban!', he shouted. 'Metagolem!'

'Megataur!', Grier responded in a blink. 'Breaker!'

The Titans emerged vis-à-vis, ready for the deadly clash as much as their Seekers. They were about to close ranks again in a wrestling without holding back, but…

'What's the meaning of this?!', the island governor shouted, leading the Sutos citizens.

'Dante, have you lost it?!', Lok joined in, approaching them along with Sophie and Cherit. 'We need to free Sutos! These people have to be free no matter what it costs us!'

Dante didn't manage to answer that he was actually trying to achieve this, because…

'You have no idea', Grier said to the boy unexpectedly. 'Those were my father's last words.'

Lambert's jaw dropped. It wasn't suitable for Dante to replicate that gesture, however, he was shocked as well, even if he had felt it coming.

'Your father?', the surprised boy repeated, observing the giant approaching him.

Dante tensed, ready to rush to Lambert's aid, but Grier didn't attack him. He just stopped in front of the lad and looked at him from above.

'My father ruled all of Sutos', he explained in a deep, severe voice. 'But he gave up his own power', he added laconically. Dante knew how to read between the lines. The rulers rarely resigned from the throne; usually, they were forced to do so by poison or daggers. 'Without the strength of his leadership, we fell into a civil war. We lost everything.'

'Because you lost your father, you joined the Organization?', Lok uttered, widening his eyes; as if he had just realized that the tragedies fell on all the people, no matter what side they were on.

'I vowed to come back here someday too… bring order', Grier added, lowering his head.

'And more importantly… peace', the governor of Sutos finished the short, concise story.

Grier didn't say anything more. However, Dante could read a lot things more for his suddenly subdued, clouded eyes. The pain of a man loving his homeland deeply and forced to watch it collapse. The shame when he couldn't do anything to raise it from the ruins and make up for the last wish of a loved one. The dilemma when according to all indications, he had been supposed to leave and act outside the country, do his best to be useful for his countrymen someday. The languor when life threw him onto a different shore, soothed by hope that one day, he would be back… and see the glory of Sutos blooming again.

So he had found it. The last piece of the jigsaw fell onto its place.

'The character of an individual is more important than the group he belongs to', Cherit summed up, trying to wipe off the nostalgic mood caused by the recalled memories.

Lok looked aside.

'I was so mad…', the boy murmured, 'I didn't even think… if Sutos wanted to be saved… I… I don't know what to say…', he floundered even more.

Having the full view on the situation, Dante didn't have any doubts how he should have reacted now.

'I do', he stepped forward. 'Grier, it's time we resolve our differences without fighting', he proposed without restraint, as if they hadn't been about to beat each other a moment ago.

Grier was silent for some time, wondering about the offer. All the people – Dante's team and the Sutos citizens – waited for the answer, holding back their breaths. Grier's eyes were like a surface of the sea, in which thoughts swam like fish; too fast to catch any of them and examine it closely.

'My superiors don't know about the Argo', the man said finally. 'They never ordered me to guard it. Finish our mission… and go', he added to obviate the hopes that after nearly tearing each other into pieces, all of them would feast together like in the certain Gaulish village.

Despite that, Dante smiled lightly and reached his hand out without uneasiness. Grier looked at it suspiciously, as if he had expected some nasty trick ending his one-day rule on the island.

'The Organization is wretched', Vale admitted honestly, gazing right at the fair-haired man's face, 'but you're not, Grier. I'm sure you'll run this place fairly.'

The ruler straightened up a bit; and though his pride didn't let him smile back, he returned the handshake quite warmly, with a clemency and dignity of the greatest among all monarchs.

**The same day, 20:21**

**The Sutos bay**

**The Aegean Sea**

Dante handed the rudder over to Sophie a long time ago and for almost half an hour, he has been staring where the shore should be, now disappearing in the raging fire of the sun drowning on the west and in the great distance. I approach Vale slowly and lean on the barrier next to him.

'Well, well', I throw ironically, crossing my arms on my chest. 'How romantic! First an idyllic image from the beach: two long-time enemies forgiving each other on the background of the sunset, and now you looking like a longing lover, staring out for his beloved. Touching. Do you already miss whacking your mug again by Grier?', I mock him.

'Men can fight, but it doesn't mean they hate each other', he responds, lost in thoughts. 'Sometimes they get to know each other better that way.'

'Men's logic always amazes me', I sigh theatrically. 'Guys make up only after they scathe each other like troglodytes and knock some teeth out.'

'And women tend to waste their time for nonsensical sulking and never-ending scuffles', Dante parries the reproach. 'It's enough just to look at you ladies here.'

I snarl haughtily.

'Oh yeah, I should kick Sophie's ass and that way we'll become best friends. Your arguments are crap. What did it change that you played a boxer and then surrendered? Apart from fulfilling your primitive caveman-like instincts, of course.'

'Knowledge; an objective view on the situation', he responds without hesitation. 'I learnt something about my opponent. I respect him due to his abilities. And now, when I discovered his motives… I understand him. As a human.'

'Oh, so that's the mysterious reason you gave up the fight', I guess. 'Not a blow from Grier which turned your brain upside down. And not my persuasions to screw this whole shit and focus on the things we should do. Only nobility, your trademark', I shake my head, disbelieving. 'That's almost impossible. You seem to be a down-to-earth guy, however, it's enough to treat you with some soppy story and you melt immediately. Have I ever told you that you're a hopeless case?'

'Yeah, you've mentioned something like that', he murmurs, still looking at the water.

'So I won't ding about it. I can point out another flaw of yours, though.'

'I've been just waiting for this', he smirks, finally peeking at me with a corner of his eye. 'So, come on.'

'I thought you're loyal towards the Foundation', I blast out.

'And I am. Do you have any doubts?', he raises his eyebrows, showing me his surprise and encouraging me to continue.

'You didn't capture one of the Organization members, though you had an opportunity', I explain. 'Grier is a tough player. His elimination would make many things easier for Huntik.'

'He's not a danger to us', Dante shakes his head, loosening again; I guess he expected greater revelations. 'See, he didn't even interrupt our mission. We've got Hoplites, we obtained Jason's logbook, and now we're coming home without adventures.'

'Don't say so yet', I warn him. 'If the chase gets us in an hour…'

'Grier is an honored man', he interrupts me strictly. 'I'm sure of it. As well as that the Organization doesn't mean so much for him. He had a more important goal than serving the Professor, and that's a thing to praise. Although he got lost, he's trying to change it.'

'And from now on, he'll live happily ever after on his fairytale island', I finish sarcastically. 'Do you really think that the Organization would allow this to happen?'

'Possibly not', he shrugs again, but he apparently gets serious; he probably thought about it before I interrupted him. 'However, I believe that Grier is able to defend his homeland', he adds firmly.

'Against the whole Organization? Don't be ridiculous', I snarl. 'They'll crush him when they'll find him eventually.'

'So let's try not to spill the beans and keep his whereabouts a secret, shall we? We can do this much for him', he throws into space, then turns away and goes to replace Sophie.

I look at him in disbelief. What's going on here? Is Dante really going to let such a big wig like Grier slip through his fingers without the Foundation brining him to justice? It's beyond belief. After everything we've been through because of him… after all those times him and DeFoe complicated our life, almost got rid of us…

Why did you forgive him, Dante? Why do you forgive everyone around at all? Why it comes to you as naturally and easily as sneezing? Why are you able to justify anyone?

If you were a total asshole, it'd be easier for me to finish you off… But you're not.

Would you forgive me as well? Would you absolve me? Would you be able to forget about all the rancor, malice and finally, about the finely devised intrigues if I told you what I am going to do?

If I just considered the possibility to tell you…

But I'm not. 'Cause I know that I don't have even such a limited support like Grier. Well, and even if I did, it wouldn't change much. A bunch of soldiers against the whole Organization… Grier must be a freaking optimist. I am not. The Professor wouldn't have a problem to eliminate me if I deserted… It's just how it works in the Organization – if you're not with them, you don't exist at all. You don't have a right to choose.

I lean heavily on the barrier and stare at the water which reflects my pensive expression.

Yeah. One can't run away from the Organization...


	15. Chapter 15: Endangered Hunters

**Happy New Year everyone!  
**

I think it's a bit late for that, but who cares! I want to wish you all the best this year, may your dreams be fulfilled and happiness fall upon you! And more Huntik awesomeness for us all :D And thank you all for the Christmas wishes!

This part was was a real challenge for me. I know how many emotions it arises in every DXZ fan... It's one of the most important episodes for their relationship's development. The bigger the goal is, the more I get worried about the results of my effort... Think what I will go through before ep. 17 ^^

It was to supposed to be fairly long. However, I decided to split it into two separate chapters. That way, I could upload the first one today. If I didn't do that, you'd have to wait much longer for the whole thing. It's going to take some time to write it properly.

I hope you will like the first part... I'm worried that I didn't do as much as I could. But maybe I just exaggerate things. It's hard to be a perfectionist.

The title certainly sounds lame, though. I meant that in this chapter, the ones who were predators now turn out to be the prey. Like, for example, Dante. And Sandra Lambert - a Seeker before and now someone Lok is worried about. And... Zhalia. As you will see, our femme fatale isn't as tough and well-prepared for the mission as she would like to...

Reviews, appear!:  
- Joey8: Hum, I was also a bit surprised when Zhalia reacted so emphatically in the episode. However, I thought: 'Why won't make a use of it?', and so I bothered Dante a bit by his doubts about her. I guess they start to torment him and that's because he cares of her more and more every day, without even realizing his feelings towards her. After all, he's a man. Men are strange when it comes to emotions. And even worse when it comes to understanding women, especially as twisted as Zhalia :)

- Kimberly: Oh, don't worry! I'm sure you'll pass the exam! We all know what a nightmare Chemistry is. No one has a feeling that they understand it, but sometimes they get lucky without even knowing it. I'll keep my fingers crossed for your test! Write me when the results come out.  
We have so much in common! I also enjoy Skillet, Nickelback and Linkin Park a lot. Recently, I'm obssessed with 'Castle of Glass'. I've thought about making a video for 'If Everyone Cared', maybe I'll give it a try. My other favourite bands are Daughtry, Lovers&Liars, Train, Breaking Benjamin, SOAD, 3 Doors Down, SafetySuit, Roxette... oh, that's just a part of the looong list.  
Well, to answer your question: I have many flaws ^^ I'm a poor painter, singer and dancer, I can't swim nor whistle, I'm an anime freak and a total klutz, my handwriting is a mess, and History is like an alien invention for me!

- Jess: it's not that I don't want to read it... I'd love to, someday :) But when I have so little time, I'd rather spend it on writing than reading.  
Hahaha, Zhalia has a dirty mind ^^ I wanted to show that she doesn't detest Dante's physical appearance anymore. And admires it more and more in silence... though she quickly brushes it off with her sharp tongue. I guess that making her too polite would be unbelievable. She's rather harsh towards the others, why would she make an exceptance for Dante? After all, for some time she regards him as another fool she has to deal with. Put-downs aren't bad even during their increasing closeness. You know, I strongly believe that funny put-downs are a good way to show affections to the people I like :) It's like that in my house. I have a funny family and we are proud of our speech fights and discussions :)

I'll think about moving the videos to tumblr, that way they'll be available.

Don't know what to add. I'm so afraid of the reviews! nervous I'm running away now, in case you don't like the chapter!

See you soon!

Sha

* * *

**12th July 2009, Sunday, 12:15**

**Dante's house**

**Cannareggio**

**Venice, Italy**

'Oh maaaan, finally', Lok plodded through the open door with his hand reached out to the sofa, like a castaway who had noticed a ship on the horizon. He left his bag in the hall and flung himself onto the couch in a disorderly jump, sinking his head into the pillows. 'All I dream of is a long nap. Sleeping in those rough beds on the boat was a pain…'

'Even worse than fighting the Organization?', Dante teased him, entering the room and placing his backpack under the wall neatly. He wasn't going to unpack it; he had a hunch that they wouldn't have a long break before the next mission. He sat in his favorite armchair next to the window and leaned his head on the headrest.

'Don't remind me!', Lok stuck out the beige mass of cushions too abruptly; he moaned and quickly started to massage the back of his neck. 'Then, all of my muscles hadn't been itching yet…', he complained, 'and now I'm almost sure that I've got muscle soreness…', he mumbled, hitting the pillow with his forehead again.

Dante smirked with amusement, but held back a remark that real missions needed some more physical preparation than pushing the buttons on the joystick.

'Some exercise wouldn't hurt you', he stated, placing both arms on the bolsters in a relaxed manner. 'I'll try to train you in my spare time.'

'Really?!', Lok's head jerked up again and mysteriously, this time the boy forgot completely about his stiff neck. 'You'll be teaching me?!'

Dante nodded; he hadn't really thought of any other ways to organize their time together as Lok was going to stay here for a while. The Suits were still keeping an eye on both newly-discovered young Seekers. Sophie was already protected by her butler, LeBlanche, and bodyguard, Santiago, so Dante was confident about her well-being. He had tried to convince her carers to take an additional charge under their wings, but both of them had opposed against it strictly; Dante guessed that it had something to do with their suspicions that Lok fancied the red-headed Casterwill girl and letting him be so close to her would encourage him to do something improper. However, leaving him in the dorm, alone and exposed to assaults, and additionally, endangering his school colleagues (not much due to the holiday, but still) by the Organization's operatives massive attacks hadn't sounded like a good idea even for Sophie's guardians. So, it had been decided that the boy would move to Dante's. Vale wasn't exactly against having guests, but he had wondered if he would treat his young fellow right. He wasn't used to talking with teenagers, their tastes and interests seemed like a complete magic for him. Sometimes he felt like a crumbly among them. Well, maybe because he had always been taken as older than he was, due to his calm, collected demeanor. And that sometimes he felt a bit out of place – as if his way of living didn't suit those times of treachery and calculation, making his beliefs outdated.

His fears was exaggerated. Lok seemed on cloud nine, his face beamed in admiration and amazement when he observed his teacher in disbelief.

'Will you show me those moves, you know, Tyson style?!', he jerked up from the sofa, as if he had never been sulking due to pains in his limbs, and started to box the air. Dante barely held back a laughter; he was sure that he himself didn't look like a prancing chicken doing so. 'It'd be awesome! Maybe I'd finally manage to beat some Suits… and don't suffer right after', he added, hissing when after a spectacular (in his opinion) blow, his shoulder started to ache.

'I can assure that after my training, you'll suffer even more', Vale chuckled quietly, observing the eager sparks in the boy's eyes with a pleasant surprise. 'At least in the beginning.'

'Uh…', the boy's enthusiasm subsided a bit, Lok slumped onto his seat again. 'Well, I guess it's worth it…', he peeked jealously at his mentor's muscles, visible even despite the cloak still covering the man's back and shoulders.

'It is. It can save your life someday…', Dante assured him, pretending not to notice that he was being looked up and down. 'And you will be able to take care of yourself every day, no matter what happens.'

The boy twitched; then he turned his face aside and fell silent for a moment.

'Yeah, I know', he mumbled eventually with a surprising sadness. 'It's troublesome to babysit me, isn't it?'

Dante eyed him carefully. The boy lost everything of his earlier cheerfulness. He leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, observing his fidgeting fingers.

'I didn't say anything like that', the man remarked.

'But I know you think so', Lambert shook his head sorrowfully. 'Everyone does… I feel like a failure. I always mess everything up, even if I do my best…', he added in a regretful whisper.

Vale didn't really know what to say. Lok surprised him with his sudden honesty. However, he sensed it coming, somehow. He knew exactly how the boy felt now, after realizing his hidden powers. After all, Dante had also been there before, even younger than Lambert was now. It also started in June, though… He called back a certain rainy day when he had just been staring at his hands, not believing what they had been able to do, puzzled, shocked, scared of himself, afraid that he had turned into a monster, and so on… So many doubts and unknowns… If there hadn't been someone who had helped him come to terms with it, he would have lost his mind. Lok needed support more than any time in his life before.

'You shouldn't see yourself this way', he spoke in a collected, soothing manner. 'Really, Lok. You do really well for a boy whose world has just turned upside down. Working under such pressure is always harder, but you manage to keep holding on somehow. Many Seekers would love to handle their beginnings as well as you do. You make mistakes, no one can deny it, but at least you learn something from them. So be proud of yourself, as the true victory is not in constant winning, but in not giving up', he repeated a quote he had heard somewhere before to finish his speech and put even more power and confidence into it.

Lok didn't say anything for a while. Then he raised his stare at Dante and seeing his serious yet considerate face, he smiled lightly.

'Thanks', he murmured, embarrassed yet comforted. 'I really want to be a good Seeker, to stand up to my Dad's reputation…'

Dante nodded with understanding and intended to say that every boy needed his superhero to look up to, but suddenly, Lok's phone beeped. The boy raised his eyebrows in surprise and took it out, then looked at the flashing screen.

'Oh no…', he moaned, his face fell again. 'It's Mom…'

'What's up, Lok?', Dante asked, getting curious. 'Is something wrong between you and your mother?'

'No, that's not it… ', the boy rolled his cell in his hand, but didn't answer it, letting it ring louder and louder. 'My Mom is awesome, she's extra-understanding and loving, but…', he hesitated, saddening again, 'I guess I wasn't as a great son recently. I… I lied to her', he confessed shamefully, a pink blush appeared on his cheeks. 'She asked when I'd come back home for holiday. I couldn't tell her that I'm busy fighting some crazy suited jerks and frightening monsters… so I told her that I've got a lot of homework for summer, a big group project or something, so I can't leave my pals alone with it, and I'll come back as soon as I finish it', he was getting more and more red every second, then he sighed and made a long face. 'I feel so bad lying to her…'

'I think you should be sincere with her, Lok', Dante interrupted him gently. 'There's no point in lying to your family. Lies only create distance between people.'

'But I can't scare her like that!', Lok protested, trying to justify his fault. 'She doesn't need new reasons to be nervous! She's already been through a lot when… when Dad…', he uttered, not knowing how to call Eathon's disappearance.

'You're not protecting her that way', Dante rested his case. 'I'm sorry to say it, but you made her worry even more now. A summer project… What an idea?', he shook his head. 'I've known you only for a month and I can easily tell you're not a weenie. You wouldn't skip a break for studying. Your mother knows it even better than me. She's wondering for sure why you changed your plans all of the sudden.'

Lok sighed heavily, lowering his head again and covering his face with his hands.

'So I'm a failure after all. See? I can't even protect my own mother…'

The cell rang few times more; when Lok couldn't handle it anymore and turned it off, the room filled with an awkward silence. Dante couldn't find any good advice for this situation, even if he desperately tried to. However, he hoped that it would solve in no time. He just felt it.

They both twitched when the diode next to the LCD screen started to flash. They exchanged a questioning stare, then Dante stood up and approached the device, pressing a certain button. The display blurred for a moment; they waited in suspense, though they guessed that it was Guggenheim who was trying to contact them. So, their surprise was even bigger when after the screen cleared, they saw a completely different person

'Mom?!', Lok uttered, dumbstruck.

Dante, though almost as stunned, couldn't fight a certain curiosity, normal for a private eye. He tried not to stare too importunately at the neat, middle-aged woman with a low ponytail and oval glasses, with a part of her purple shirt and pinkish sweater visible. However, he noticed that Lok had taken much after her, for example his blonde hair, blue eyes and light skin tone. Mrs. Lambert could have been considered attractive if not her worried expression, underlining two wrinkles on both sides of her lips and a crease through her forehead.

'_Lok, sweetheart!_', she cried out, looking worriedly at her son. '_I thought I wouldn't contact you in ages! I called you, but you didn't answer, and when your phone stopped being available, I…_'

'Mom, how did you… how did you find me?!', Lok threw in shock. 'I mean… How did you know that I… that I'm not at my dorm? And… how on earth did you get this number?!', he couldn't get it.

Mrs. Lambert looked at her son with so much pain in her eyes that Dante felt impelled to help her answer to that question.

'Lok, listen…', he started, but suddenly the woman interrupted him kindly yet firmly:

'_It's fine, Dante, dear. I can do it myself._'

'What?!', Lok's jaw dropped. 'Do you know each other?'

Dante and Mrs. Lambert exchanged cautious yet polite stares. Vale couldn't find any detail of this face familiar, even despite its similarity to Lok's, but…

'You can say so', he nodded. 'Although we haven't met before, we… we are a part of the same team.'

'_Lok_', Mrs. Lambert cut in desperately, '_I'm a Seeker_.'

A short thud broke the sudden silence that fell into the room; it was Lok's cell which got knocked off his knees when the boy suddenly jerked up, staring at his mother's image with his eyes and mouth wide open. Dante thought that it was the right time for him to go and leave the Lamberts alone; it was a family matter and he was just a stranger disturbing them. He started to back to the kitchen. Any of the two didn't seem to mind it; they both fixed their eyes on each other. Then Lok caught Dante's withdrawal with a corner of his eye and turned to his mentor abruptly.

'You knew all the way?', he asked in a serious voice.

His stare pierced Dante to the floor; he stopped halfway.

'I discovered it just few days ago', he admitted; there was no point in lying, since the secret had gotten revealed. 'I heard about your father's wedding before, but I wasn't aware that he married a fellow Seeker.'

'_I saw Dante on the pictures from Eathon's past, but we never happened to meet each other_', Mrs. Lambert added to explain their complicated acquaintance. '_However, when his name became famous, I recalled…_'

'And you didn't tell me?!', Lok didn't pay attention to that detail, still piercing his teacher with his glare. 'How could you pass over it knowing that I was so worried about being dishonest towards my mother?! After all those pretty words about truthfulness!'

'_Lok, please, don't blame him…_', Mrs. Lambert said, looking at Dante apologetically, but he responded on his own:

'It was just a feeling that your mother had to have a good reason to stay silent about it.'

'So, you, Mom!', the boy turned to her quickly. 'Why didn't you tell me earlier?', he asked desperately. 'Why did you hide it from me?!'

'_I didn't want you and your sister to get involved_', she explained worriedly, trying to subdue her son's emotions. '_I thought I'd be able to keep you away from the dangers of this life, from the Organization, violent Titans and deadly riddles. But then you delayed your return from the school, and I got suspicious… You've never really been into school and studying_', she said, and Lok grimaced, calling back Dante's anticipations about his mother's reaction to his lie. '_I had a bad feeling… so I contacted Guggenheim. It was just an idea… During our friendly talk about old days, he happened to congratulate me on your last achievements. Then I got the whole story out of him. When he realized I didn't know anything about it, he did everything I asked for to make up for his mistake. Even giving me Dante's home number._'

She stopped for a moment, then added in a sadder voice:

'_He thought my son had informed me about everything._'

Now it was Lok who seemed uneasy.

'I'm sorry, Mom', he mumbled. 'I… I thought you didn't know about Seekers… that if you stayed unaware, the Suits wouldn't get interested in you and Cath…'

'_So, you understand me now_', his mother said quietly. '_I had no choice but to hide the truth from you. Especially after what happened to your father…_'

The tears in her eyes glistened as strongly as her pearl earrings. Mrs. Lambert raised her glasses, drying her eyes with her sleeve.

'_I really believed I could save you from his fate… but it caught you anyway when I least expected it…_', her voice was shaking.

'Mom…', Lok whispered anxiously, reaching his hand out to the screen, as if he had intended to wipe the droplets away from his mother's displayed face. When he realized what he had been about to do, he just froze with his arm up, puzzled and confused. This gesture was so intimate that Dante felt like an intruder. He continued his escape and finally managed to hide in the kitchen. Then, he started to look through the window, just to keep his mind occupied. However, no matter how he tried to focus on something else, for example on his neighbor working in his garden, he still heard the voices from the living room.

'Please, Mom. It will be fine. We will manage, we always do, right?'

'_Yes, yes, baby. You're right. We just have to stick together. So… come home, will you? We miss you, me and Cathy_.'

'I will. I promise. This week.' Lok broke the talk for a moment, then he added with hesitation: 'But, Mom, I've got a favor to ask from you…'

Dante could bet that Sandra Lambert smiled gently when she interrupted him:

'_Of course, honey. Bring your… 'summer project colleagues' with you._'

**13th July 2009, Monday, 17:13**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

'Just up ahead, guys!', Lok points at the hill in front of us; there's an unclear building silhouette on the top of the rise, which is supposed to be the Lambert family's house.

'Wow, I never knew grass could be so green!', Sophie looks around in amazement, raving over the vast areas of emerald patched by golden-colored fields and crossed by white-sanded paths shaded by clumps of oaks. No sign of bigger human creations…

'Certainly it's rural…', I murmur spitefully, pursing my lips. When Lok invited us to his house for a little break, I expected something more than spending the whole day far away from the advantages of technology...

'Yap', the boy doesn't sense the irony in my voice and takes my remark as a face value. 'Mom's family is from this part of Ireland, so she decided to raise us here', he informs us. Sorry, pal, I'm not here to learn about your origins and stuff… I just took an offer to visit Ireland without paying for the hotel in some famous city. And I don't know if I won't regret my parsimony. What am I going to do HERE?! Search for four-leaved clover on those meadows?!

'Talk about your idyllic childhood!', Sophie teases her peer; she seems to like the perspective of spending a whole week away from city noise.

'This far from civilization, I can fly around in the open!', Cherit joins her enthusiastically, twirling in the air gracefully like a dandelion's seed.

'Man, how I've been looking forward to this!', Lok throws his hands in the air. 'All week of nothing but sleeping long, goofing off…', he enumerates with delight. 'And Mom's apple pie!', he reminds himself of another advantage of the Irish vacation.

'How ever did I make it this long…', I roll my eyes, sick of their raptures, but can't hold back a smile when I call back certain memory from two weeks before. One guy even managed to convince me to taste the Vienna cheesecake. Maybe I will give the pie a chance too?

Cherit breaks the dream-like atmosphere.

'Looks like it's beginning to rain, I'm afraid', he notices, peeking at the droplets wetting his fur.

Dante, who has been silent since we arrived, even after Lok mentioned the home-made pie, wakes up from his thoughtfulness and looks at the darkening sky.

'Cherit's right, storm's coming', he admits, observing the thick clouds. 'We'll better hurry.'

**The same day, 17:44**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

'Here we are', Lok announces when we walk a tidy path which looks as if it was swept just few minutes earlier from leaves and pebbles. It leads to a one-storied brick house with a roof made of dark tiles, surrounded by a trim lawn and few chestnut trees flowing gently in the growing wind.

'It's just like in some fairytale!', Sophie compliments the view.

'Yeah', I smirk. 'I almost expect a leprechaun jumping out in front of us…'

'I don't know about leprechauns, but there's at least one fairy', Lok smiles warmly, taking a deep breath and smelling something nice, 'who conjured up some delicious dinner for us… Come on, let's get in!', he hurries us up.

He steps onto the small veranda and knocks to the glazed door. We stay behind, waiting for him to announce our arrival. After all, it's his territory and we're just strangers who were allowed to cross its borders. Otherwise I wouldn't be so willing to accept his leadership.

We hear somebody storming through the hall; then, a woman's face appears in the pane and the door open wide.

'Lok!', a blonde woman beams seeing the boy. 'Look at you!', she kisses his cheek and embraces him tightly. 'You've gotten taller!'

'Oh, I can't get any shorter', Lok jokes, parting and looking at her from an arm-long distance. 'You look great!'

I must admit he's right. I didn't expect Lok to have such a chick as his mother! Though she seems in her mid or late forties, she keeps shape like a twenty-years-old, her hair are still clearly fair, without gray threads, and her blue eyes glisten with youth, despite being surrounded by small wrinkles, just like her lips. Additionally, she doesn't look like a yokel. She put on simple yet suitable clothes, and – as I notice – she wears jeans, just like me! Not too skinny, but not too loose as well, they accentuate her great silhouette and give her attire a sporty charm. It looks so natural, better than dressing up elegantly just for guests. So far, I am pleasantly surprised.

'Oh gosh, I've been cooking all day!', she wipes an invisible speck of dust off her trousers and brushes a small strand behind her ear, combing her hair with her fingers. 'I'm a mess!'

Lok just smiles leniently at that slight sign of women's exaggerated fears of their looks.

'Mom, these are my friends', he shows her the rest of us. 'Sophie', he nods to the girl who waves shyly at his mom.

'It's a pleasure to meet you', she curtsies politely.

'Zhalia', he introduces me.

'Hello', I nod to Mrs. Lambert; I guess that complimenting her taste in trousers would be too much for such an early acquaintance.

'And this is Dante', Lok continues the introduction.

'Thanks for having us', Dante feels impelled to show gratefulness for her generosity. Huh, he never forgets such details. No surprise Mrs. Lambert gives him a warm smile and waves her hand as if she wanted to say: 'You're welcome'. So, he's already bought her with his good manners.

Suddenly Cherit clears his throat above our heads, putting his hands akimbo and eyeing Lok meaningfully.

'Oh, and this is Cherit', the boy quickly fixes his mistake.

The gargoyle lightens up and bows with courtesy.

'The pleasure is mine, my lady!'

'I'm glad to meet you all', Mrs. Lambert smiles to all of us. 'Please, step inside, everything is prepared for your stay.'

We all accept the invitation, a bit tired after the trip here. I examine the interior as we enter a place serving as diving and living room at the same time, with stairs leading up, a table located in the center and sofa and armchairs surrounding the fireplace. An average house, full of old yet clean and noble furniture, vacuumed carpets and simple paintings, just like in some soap opera about ideal family life. Well, it would look like that if not a mass of foreign souvenirs located all around the house: ritual masks hanging on the walls, statues standing on the drawers and lots, lots of books placed in rows on the shelves, some of them seeming really ancient. What a crazy mix, like in some provincial museum… But Lok's eyes spark with admiration.

'It's good to be home', he states joyfully, looking around while we all are leaving our luggage on the floor. 'Where's Cathy?'

'Your sister is off at her summer classes', Mrs. Lambert explains. And that way our meeting with the last member of the family is delaying. 'Oh, but you all must be starving', the woman realizes. 'I'll whip up some sandwiches', she says and before anyone manages to stop her, she disappears in the kitchen.

'Your mother is quite the hostess, Lok', Cherit comments while the rest of us, encouraged by the householder, take seats. I slump onto the green couch with wicker backrest. Oh my, that's just what I need now. My feet are burning. How was I supposed to know that we wouldn't have a chance to go here by bus?! If I knew, I'd have put on more comfortable shoes. Or think about buying a helicopter.

'Mom hasn't always been a housewife, you know', Lok tells us. Oh, I notice that one of the teammates isn't as tired as everyone else. Of course, for Mr. Vale, it was just a warm-up. But you know, pal, it is considered rude to ferret around somebody's house, even if you just want to check out the books, so better sit on your butt and at least listen to the chatter, if you are going to stay silent, like the whole day.

'That's right, she was a member of the Huntik Foundation, wasn't she?', Sophie continues the topic. Well, things are getting interesting… It explains why Mrs. Lambert didn't drop dead seeing Cherit.

'Yeah, I just found up myself when she invited us up', Lok confirms. 'I wasn't exactly in all of this before…'

I fall into my thoughts. So, Lok took his abilities after both parents, not only one? I haven't thought about it earlier, but when I wonder about it now, it makes sense. Starting a family with lies about his abilities and affiliation to Huntik would be difficult for Eathon, but since his other half was also a Seeker, it made many things easier, as she knew it inside out. And it increased the possibility to pass the power to the children…

How does it work? Where those skills come from? Do we take them after our ancestors, like, for example, eye color, or we are chosen as Seekers regardless of our origin and blood? Were my parents Seekers as well? Had my power been sleeping in my body cells since birth, like a cancer predisposition? Or maybe certain conditions awake it and I fulfilled them unintentionally?

There's no point in such thoughts. I'd rather never learn it. And that knowledge wouldn't change anything, neither my past nor the present. I'm a Seeker; it's not a fever which can be cured.

I shake my head lightly and raise it. I notice that while I was deep into my thoughts, Dante managed to sneak out the room, leaving me with the youngsters. Well, well, is he going to charm even Lok's mother with his male pheromones?

I ironize, but I sense that it's a different matter. Dante wasn't very talkative the whole day. I guess he has something on his mind… Something's bothering him.

But why his strange behavior's disturbing me as well?

**The same day, 17:54**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

Dante hesitated at the kitchen's doorstep, observing Lok's mother's organized, purposeful moves. She was preparing the meal quickly, yet with great efficiency gained after all the years of keeping the household. Knowing Lok's appetite, she couldn't slack off during cooking not to hear his whining about being hungry. However, she didn't seem to mind it, as well as having additional people to take care of now. Treating such a group wasn't an easy task, though.

'Thought you might like some help', Dante said.

She turned to him, stopping with the teakettle above one cup.

'I would', she responded with surprise yet gratefulness.

'Allow me', he proposed.

The woman nodded and continued her job, giving Dante a free hand. He approached the table and started to help with making the sandwiches. Many people considered men in kitchen ridiculous, but for a bachelor used to taking care of himself, it was a normal thing. Mrs. Lambert didn't seem to mind as well. Dante observed her askance. How calm that woman was! She had just learned about her son being exposed to dangers she had been experiencing in her life as well, yet she managed to remain cheerful in front of her guests, as if nothing had happened, as if there hadn't been that scene with tears rolling down her cheeks… Vale felt his heart melting again when he recalled it. And again, guilt strangled him.

He quickly scolded himself. That woman was so brave, showing them a happy face, and he wouldn't be courageous enough to talk with her about his doubts?! No way. However, the worst problem was, he didn't know where to begin.

'Mrs. Lambert, do you mind if I ask you something?', he finally decided to start simply.

'Not at all, dear', she responded kindly. She didn't seem to harbor any unfriendly feelings towards him, but… Dante hesitated before asking:

'How do you really feel about Lok becoming a part of the Huntik Foundation?'

Mrs. Lambert kept a straight face, but she couldn't deceive Dante; he noticed how her hand had shaken. She had to put the kettle onto the table not to drop it. She didn't respond for a moment, wondering about his question.

'Well', she said eventually, weighing her words, 'I coshed anyone against making that choice', she admitted frankly. 'I know how difficult a life it can be. And how dangerous', she added seriously, her voice lowering to a whisper, 'especially after his father Eathon's… disappearance.'

She made eye contact with Dante through the steam of the hot tea, checking if he was getting her words right. He was. He understood them even too clearly. If he had to count the times when he had been close to death, he wouldn't handle it. Twice a week? No, more… How many it'd be in a year? And given that he had been an active Seeker since twelve…

No, that was too much for any normal person. Especially for a young boy used to danger only during school tests and adventure games…

'And Lok…', he tried to share his fears with Mrs. Lambert, but cut short. He didn't know how to put his observations about Lok's hardships into proper words. Offending the boy before his mother wasn't the best idea, he had to be gentle.

She didn't give him enough time to think about it.

'Lok's always been a good boy', she interrupted him quickly, 'a smart boy, like his father. He has to do what he has to do', she assured him firmly, staring at him with her clear, bright eyes, so much alike her son's, only shining with wisdom of an experienced woman.

Dante felt uneasy under their gaze. He turned aside, sinking into his thoughts. He believed in Lok as well, after all, Vale didn't lie comforting him after the yesterday breakdown. The boy was well-intentioned about discovering the Seeker world, he had potential to do so, but was there a point in it? Was it really a good thing to throw him into the lion's den just because he wanted? Wouldn't it be more right to keep him away from it? Dante didn't try to stand in his way to achieve his dreams, but he also wouldn't like to see him getting hurt.

'Dante…', Mrs. Lambert's hesitating voice interrupted his wondering.

He turned to her and met her worried gaze. It hit the softest spot in his heart due to the great anxiety shown in her wide pupils.

'Please, take care of him', she asked beggingly.

How could he refuse, noticing how every muscle of the woman's body tensed in fear of the future, concern for her child following in his father's footsteps, and dread of the next tragic final of that journey?

Dante nodded firmly. He would. He was going to prepare Lok for the Seeker's life as well as he could! He wouldn't let him share his father's fate. At any cost.

**The same day, 20:24**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

'…the TV program host asked the kids how many rods they could see on the screen. Suddenly, Lok burst into tears and ran to me screaming. I asked what was going on, and then he said… that a stranger from the TV had accosted him!', Mrs. Lambert gave the punch line.

Ah, what a fascinating way to spend the evening… Listening to the stories about Lok's first teeth, steps and smile, discovering his childhood adventures and pretending to be amused by his famous silly quotes. If I knew that it'd be the prize for staying at the Lamberts', I'd rather be still paying for my hotel room in Venice, thanks! I'm not really into all those 'family moments' stuff…

However, some people seem to enjoy this blabbering.

'I bet you were adorable!', Sophie laughs heartily, observing her embarrassed pal, eyed lovingly by his mother raveling over his past cuteness. That's one of a few things I don't miss about family: making you look like a fool in front of your acquaintances.

'OK, Mom…', Lok murmurs, staring aside. 'I bet they've heard enough about me…'

'Oh, I was going to tell them about you and Scarlet next!', Mrs. Lambert says with disappointment, touching his hand.

'No, mom, please…', Lambert moans, facepalming. Yeah, boy, I sympathize with you and share your pain. I'm already fed up of those stories. I won't handle another stream of this shit.

I'm about to switch off when suddenly Dante stops sipping his tea.

'Scarlet Byrne?', he repeats in a curious, interested tone.

I peek at him suspiciously, surprised by his sudden wake. He's not been the life and soul of the party today, occupied by his secret wonders. He barely participated in the chatter, sometimes threw in a sentence or two, but generally stayed silent and listened to the talk. But now… there's a spark in his eyes which makes them exceptionally bright.

'Who's Scarlet Byrne?', Sophie asks, a bit puzzled.

'A Huntik Foundation operative. She's good', he adds admiringly with a strange smile dancing on his lips. It makes me get cautious and pay more attention to the talk. I eye Dante strongly, trying to make him catch my glare and give me some explanations. I have my reasons to be so curious. Mr. Vale attracts many women's (and even female Titans') attention, however, he has never seemed to reciprocate those feelings (you know, I only teased him about Medea; he turned out to be more interested in the herbs than her transparent outfit). What was so special about that Scarlet Byrne chick that it shook off even Mr. Vale's stoic cover?

'Long before that, she was Lok's babysitter', Mrs. Lambert carries on the explanation. 'He had such a crush on her!', she looks at her son with adoration; however, he doesn't seem happy about it.

'Thanks, Mom…', he mumbles, turning a bit red. Blondes always have a problem with that – their blushes show their emotions too clearly.

'That's so sweet!', Sophie giggles, finding his embarrassment amusing.

'Lok has good taste', Dante comments, putting his cup onto the table. 'She's very pretty', he adds in passing, leaning on the backrest comfortably.

That statement causes me to bristle a bit.

'Well, sounds like Scarlet Byrne has all the boys under her spell…', I remark scornfully, raising my cup to my mouth; however, I change my mind in the last moment. Of course, what else could it be? Her looks, no surprise here. Those boys are so simple. But what do I expect from creatures who enjoy skimming through porn magazines full of banal bleached blondes with inflated tits, pumped-up lips and fake tans, all of them as plastic as their artificial nails? I smirk with haughtiness. They are just mere hoes without their make-up, no different than me, most of them even uglier. After all, I know some small tricks way more subtle and elegant to make myself look attractive.

I'm going mention my opinion about the guys' shallow observation, however, when I intend to, we hear a sudden crack of the lock. A dark shadow sneaks into the room; when it comes into the circle of light, I notice a flash of fair hair and a long beige coat.

'Cathy?', Mrs. Lambert recognizes the tall silhouette with surprise.

The girl ignores her. She keeps the door open for a moment; the reason for that becomes clear when she reaches her hand out into the darkness and pulls someone else inside the house.

'It's all right', she assures the second person, still staying in the dimness.

'Good heavens!', Mrs. Lambert jerks up from her seat, seeing two newcomers.

'Quiet!', her daughter hushes her with a quick gesture, prowling to the window and looking through it cautiously yet attentively.

'What's going on?', Lok's mother, alarmed by Cathy's strange behavior, lowers her voice obediently, spreading her arms in confusion.

'Some men in a sedan were following Scarlet, completely weird!', the girl explains in a piercing, anxious whisper, making me twitch. 'Good thing I drove by…'

What? Did she just say…

'Scarlet, are you alright, dear?', Mrs. Lambert comes to the stranger standing in the hall. 'Come, sit down, here…', she takes the jacket off the guest's back and disappears in the depths of the house, probably to hang the wet cloth on the rack and get some more hot tea.

I've heard it again… THAT name…

'I'll be fine, Mrs. Lambert, really!', a lively, energetic voice with a distinctive Irish accent speaks up and the stranger finally leaves the hall. First thing I notice is a mass of orange-red locks, framing a very pale, thin face with a small pointed nose and narrow eyes; all of that located on a pole-like, slender body with extremely long legs. Is it possible that it's the person we've been talking about? I can't believe it… She's not even pretty…

The young woman doesn't know about my wondering; she takes a seat on the backrest of the armchair, observing the rest of us curiously.

'Lok!', her eyes spot out the young Lambert and stick to the only face apart from Cathy's she knows. 'Is that you?'

Lok clears his throat in embarrassment, not looking into her emerald irises.

'Hey, it's… ah… good to see you…', he mumbles, waving to her and giving her a shy grin.

'Same…', she responds kindly.

Cathy is way more direct towards her younger sibling.

'Wow, if it isn't my globe-trading little brother!', she exclaims, taking her cloak off. 'How's going, stinker?', she says with an incredible fondness and rushes to squeeze him.

'Hi, Cath', Lok hugs her just as warmly, with a joyful smile on his face. 'How're things? Still getting straight days?', he asks absorbedly, tickled by his sister's cleanly-cut hair. Nice styling, by the way. Suits her a bit slanting, large cerulean eyes and regular facial features.

'Yap', the girl releases him from her embrace, giggling, as if she was really proud of herself. 'I'm thinking of going to Italy for a little break', she informs Lok.

'Venice?', I throw in, peeking at him. 'Oh, is that a little too close to the Founda…'

'Foundation!', he interrupts me abruptly, shaking his head slightly, as if he was telling me to cut short here. He earns Cathy's questioning stare. 'It's a club… really loud… lots of tourists…', he invents some poor explanation, making discontent faces to daunt Cathy from this part of the world. I exchange stares with my teammates, a bit puzzled. What wrong did I just say?'

'Cathy isn't exactly a part of the… family business', the least expected person explains me: Scarlet Byrne.

'What are you all talking about?', Cathy knits her plucked eyebrows, staring at us with a smile telling: '_You're my bro's friends from the mental hospital, right?_'

Oh, so that's the point. The Lambert family surely has its secrets and strange ways to keep them… even from its own members. Not my problem, though; I won't be the one to break the blanket of silence.

'Uh… these are my friends', Lok changes the topic. 'That's Zhalia, and Sophie, and that's Dante, and that's…', he stops with his hand hanging in the air and pointing at Cherit, who sits above the fireplace and is just about to bite a tart; however, he freezes halfway, frightened. 'That's a statue I bought for Mom!', Lok tries to get out of trouble and comes up with such a lame idea that I'm almost sure the mystification will get ruined in no time. 'Of a gargoyle… eating pie…?'

'That Lok…', Sophie quickly comes to his aid, standing up and covering Cherit with her back not to let Cathy examine him more closely. 'Always picking up strange things!', she lets out a fake chuckle.

Cathy gives her brother a strange look; he shows her a wide, unnatural smile which wouldn't fool anyone. Except of someone who seems to be used to Lok's peculiarities…

'Yeah, he's still a weirdo…', she admits with hesitation; her eyes fall onto Kipperin's amulet hanging down the boy's neck. O-oh, the disaster is coming again…

'I've seen people wear this lately', she touches the pendant, however, backs her hand abruptly, as if the Titan's energy hit her. Then she adds in frustration: 'I so don't get them!...'

Lok tenses in his chair.

'Well, you know, one of those fads…', he tries to calm her down, seeing her puzzled expression.

Cathy gives the stare back uncertainly, eyeing Lok suspiciously.

'A-anyway, nice to meet you all', she tries to call a smile upon her face, however, it looks more like a grimace. 'Gotta make a phone call', she excuses herself quickly, coming up the stairs. 'Major friend drama…'

Cherit sighs with relief when she disappears upstairs.

'Oh my…', he lowers his tensed paw. 'That was a close one, wasn't it?'

We exchange stares; Lok seems to be the most worried, as he still looks above, where Cathy's room is supposed to be. However, we don't have time to discuss the special precautionary measures for that case – Mrs. Lambert comes back from the kitchen with a cup of tea and a towel.

'Here, dear', she gives them to Scarlet.

'Thanks, Mrs. Lambert', Byrne accepts them gratefully. After drinking a sip of steaming drink, she starts to dry her long hair.

'So, Scarlet', Dante reels up to her in a startlingly familiar voice, 'you're on a mission for the Huntik Foundation?'

The ginger suddenly stops sprucing herself up; instead, she fixes her eyes at Dante, examining him carefully.

'Wait a moment, you're Dante Vale, aren't ya?', much to my surprise, she recognizes him just as easily. However, it shouldn't astonish me, most of Huntik guys at least heard about him… It means nothing, doesn't it?

'That's right', Dante nods. 'We met last year in Venice, didn't we?'

All of the sudden, Scarlet beams.

'Of course, it's great to see you!', she exclaims warmly, losing interest in fixing her shiny waist-length curls. If they weren't red, they'd look perfect. Damn it… they look perfect nevertheless! Especially with droplets of rain glittering between the strands like small crystals. Her brightened eyes don't see like two squints anymore, opened wide and sparkling with mysterious emerald light… Dante looks into them like enchanted.

I clear my throat loudly. What, everyone can catch some hoarseness. Dante twitches and comes back to earth.

'Eh… Zhalia, Sophie and Lok here are my team', he introduces us (I guess it's a third time during the whole day!), to which I respond with a short, chilly 'Hi'.

'Actually, a team is just what I could use right now', Scarlet admits, however, I highly doubt that she really needs any of us, as she stares only at Mr. Vale.

'And why is that?', he also seems to talk only with her now. A true interest sounds in his voice. I bet he's not just curious about the new riddle, as he doesn't take his eyes off Scarlet…

'Have you ever heard of the Newgrange passage tomb?', she asks; again, I feel as if we were just an audience for their conversation.

'It's an ancient burial ground and a hotspot of the Irish myths', Dante recalls.

'That's right', Scarlet nods. 'Apparently, it's also a hiding spot of a powerful Titan…'

'A Titan that somebody doesn't want you to find', Lok picks up all the courage and interrupts the talk, hoping to make them notice the rest of us.

'Exactly', Byrne admits. 'Listen, I know you're all on a break, but…', she starts pleadingly.

This voice combined with the way she's fluttering her lashes more often (strange that Dante's hair don't get ruffled by the gust of wind caused by that!)… O-oh. I know what it means. No way, carrot head.

'That's right', I cut in meaningfully. 'We are', I accentuate strongly, implying that we're not going to dance to her tune just because she has a fancy...

However, someone ruins all my efforts.

'Yeah!', Lok accepts enthusiastically. 'We'll do it! '

I open my mouth to protest, however, any words can't escape my throat. Although I'm tongue-tied, my eyes throw bolts of lightning at him.

'Well… at least one out of three ain't bad', Lok corrects awkwardly, much to Scarlet's amusement: her laugh rings in the room like a silver bell.

I grit my teeth and try to kill Lok from the distance with my stare and angry growls, however, my methods fail. And there's Sophie on the way. She gives back a dissatisfied stare, but, much to my surprise, her discontent is not associated with me this time… We both purse our lips and cross our arms hearing the Irish girl's giggle. If she was a damned nightingale, I swear I'd roast her for supper right away.

Those holidays were f*cked up already, she didn't have to ruin them completely by her presence.

'Girls… if you don't want to go, I guess we will manage in a threesome', Scarlet notices our displeasure.

I throw her a suspicious glare.

'A threesome, huh?', I repeat. I bet you'd like to have a love triangle, but did you really count it well? 'You and Lok make only two. Of course if none of you has split personality…', I add ironically.

Scarlet fazes a bit.

'Oh, actually, I thought that…', she looks meaningfully at Dante.

I do the same. Vale gives the stare back. His eyes are clear and composed. Their expression is his unspoken answer.

'No Seeker shies away from a challenge', he responds calmly. 'Especially when there's a chance to make a major discovery…'

I chuckle sarcastically, though a bit bitterly as well. As I see, the matter is settled, regardless if I like it or not. There's no way I'd let them go alone. Dante's mine. Even if it only means that I have a right to choose when to kill him.

**The same day, 23:12**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

What a schedule they have in this house?! Going to bed before midnight?! I hope it's only today, due to everyone's tiredness and the tomorrow early wake, otherwise I won't manage staying here for a whole week. I'm not used to falling asleep early. The rain doesn't make it easier; its heavy droplets clatter against the roof and windows, which is the most easily heard on the attic where my room is located.

To scare away boredom, I drew out my diary and intended to write the everyday report for Klaus. However, even if I try hard, the words just don't come out, stuck in my head, analyzing them over and over. How am I supposed to start? What should I write when everything I remember from that day is focused not on my mission, but on Dante's mysterious connection to Scarlet Byrne?!

_We met last year in Venice, didn't we?_

How come he remembers it so clearly if he can't even call back what he told me two weeks ago? Like, you know, those suggestions that he was hitting on me?

Well, I guess he has another object of his advances… and, much to my disappointment, it's not a girl I imagined, a blonde bimbo type.

But, hell, what's so special about her? She seems to be in her early or mid twenties yet she doesn't have anything like boobs! She's skinny and lanky like a scarecrow, even her loose green shirt can't hide it! No fine feminine curves. And that thin ass of hers… no flesh bouncing up and down while walking. Even Lok has more of hips than her, and he's just a lean boy! And… those legs… OK, they're long, so what?! They look like two rakes. No wonder she hides them… wearing jeans. Pheh! What a profanation - someone like her in my favorite type of trousers! It enrages me so much I can't hold it any longer. I'd love to rip that clothing off her scrawny bottom.

However, it could only gratify the male audience… Men like nudeness in any case. Some of them don't seem to mind skeleton-like build and pay attention to more appealing details. Her complexion, for example… Though she's whitish like Sadako Yamamura, her skin lacks any defects, even without make up which must've been washed by the rain. It's just her natural advantage… unlike her teeth, visible between her parted pale lips when she smiled. I'm sure they're veneers. What normal woman has such porcelain-white, even teeth?! Her eyes, though narrow and small like two squints, don an unusual emerald color, just like a clover. A typical Irish appearance… green eyes, pale skin and… those red hair… Them falling onto her shoulders in shiny curls… I can't lie to myself that it's just a hairdressing trick; after such a soak, every styling would go to waste. They're perfect.

Dante has a thing for hair. He once told me that mine are beautiful… that he liked their shade and gloss.

I peek at my strands, lying flatly on my shoulders. What would I look like after a cloudburst if I can't keep them neatly even after hours of doing them? So pathetic. No wonder he lied. He is always so well-mannered, damn it. I guess that's why women like him so much. And jump into his bed more willingly…

I'm almost sure he slept with Scarlet. Or at least wanted to. What would be the different reason for his quick recall? I don't find any better explanation. I snarl. What a bad taste he has. But what else did I expect from him, huh? He's such a small potatoes. He'd enjoy even banging that cornstalk! That's all he deserves, that bloody shag artist…

_A challenge_, pheh! _A major discovery_! Don't pull the wool over my eyes, Vale! The only discovery you are so eager to make is seeing what color Scarlet's panties are.

Now he's going to have a whole page dedicated to his density, damn it! I hope I'll have enough time to read it to him before I slash his head open!

I'm about to write the first letter, however, the tip of the pen only scratches the paper when I twitch, hearing a beeping thud. I stare at the smirch left on the sheet with disgust. I quickly lose interest in it, though. I listen to the sound, thinking that I only misheard it. It is quiet yet distinctive. I recognize the ringtone even too clearly. That cell phone… it can't be…

The report can wait. I reach for my suitcase and open it abruptly, then draw out the phone. I answer it and put it next to my ear.

'_Zhalia, my dear, I hope I am not calling too late._'

If I didn't know who was calling me, I'd never recognize Klaus. He sounds different than usual. I don't know… happy? Excited? Energetic? However, it doesn't make me feel more relaxed and outgoing addressing him. I guess it's still my injured pride after the bruise event.

'Of course not, what is it?', I respond stiffly.

'_Surprise, surprise, I have a secret mission for you!_', he beams. His voice reminds me a lot of a certain children's tale he read me before sleep - about a wolf who ate some honey to soften his voice and lure little goats out their house by tricking them into believing that it was their mother calling them. However, I'm not a kid. I'm not that easy to deceive. I know that behind Klaus' sugar-coated voice, there always lies guile.

'I've already got a secret mission', I remind him strictly.

'_Oh really?_', Klaus gets less informal, instead fills his voice with a drop of venom. '_If that is so, then why the records of your activity are still not on my desk?'_

I desperately think of an alibi to justify the delay. Yes, why?! Why haven't I gotten anything from Dante yet?! What's going on with me that it takes me so long?! The explanation has to be believable. Otherwise I'll have to hide my face for another week.

The long lack of words from Klaus' side bodes ill.

'_I told you not to lie to me', _he reminds me severely. '_I am sure you have not charmed Mr. Vale yet, Zhalia._ _If you did, you would not drag the masquerade any longer, with your hasty personality_.'

I break a cold sweat. What a fool I was… I thought that I was so clever, so sly and professional… Bullshit. My evasions were for nothing. Klaus, the one who taught me the wiles, wouldn't fall into his own trap. He always mercilessly points out my every weak spot. Who else would call me, a cold calculated bitch, hasty? He already knows about my made-up stories about seducing Dante. And though he remains unmoved, I have a feeling that it's only a prelude for a reprimand. He warned me and he doesn't like to repeat himself twice seeing that it doesn't give any results. _Punishments are best lessons_, that's his opinion. I guess he's right. Nothing knocks sense into your head as well as a fist.

Not a week, then. Maybe a month, maybe less, if I'd be lucky enough to escape this without broken limbs.

The way I breathe seems so loud in the lingering silence. It's better not to break it. Anything I say can be used only against me.

However, Klaus speaks up suddenly:

'_Oh no, I do not blame you. I also tend to get a little… impatient… when specimens do not cooperate._'

He… he's not angry with me?!...

'_I guess it is harder than we both thought, right?_', he continues mildly, with stunning leniency. '_Otherwise you would make it quick, any man cannot resist your glamour. Maybe he is not really interested in women, as you suggested._'

Oh no, he is. But not in me. Why? Scarlet just walked into the room and he acts like a puppy on her leash, letting her pull him even to the Meath County. I've wasted two weeks on flirting with him and achieved nothing. What is wrong with me?! Why aren't my unerring tactics working?! It's so pathetic. Even Klaus feels pity for me, and believe me, he's not the most compassionate guy you've ever met…

'_However, we cannot wait any longer_', he comes back to the topic so rapidly that I even doubt if he really sounded so considerate before. '_The Professor will not wait forever. We have to resort to more drastic methods._'

'What do you mean?', I ask him anxiously. It's not that I'm a fragile flower who fears 'drastic methods'. However, Klaus' are exceptionally… elaborate. There are always needles, forceps and lancets involved.

Klaus chuckles under his breath.

'_I am sending my latest creation_', he announces with pride. '_It is called a death com. Use it on Dante Vale to drain him of all his magic. Without it, he will be helpless… and you can finish him at your leisure_', he almost purrs with pleasure, his voice smooth like an assassin's knife reached out from the scabbard.

My throat suddenly gets sore. I swallow hardly.

'You're not serious', I hoarse. I feel bitterness in my mouth.

Klaus gives out a surprised hum.

'_Getting rid of Mr. Vale as fast as we can is our highest priority, is it not?'_

'It is, but…', I try to find any good excuse; what for?... 'What about the secrets he keeps? I was supposed to elicit them from him…'

'_The Organization will possess them faster taking over his house after his elimination_', Klaus cuts the ground from under my feet.

'But… some of them are certainly protected by spells known only by him, some kind of codes, force fields adjusted to recognize only his distinctive power, fingerprint, or something…', I mumble, my tongue is like a restive horse in full gallop.

'_Do you suppose that the masters of espionage and trickery would not manage breaking some abject precautions?_', Klaus asks me patronizingly. '_Do not worry, I will obtain as much as we need from our prey. A fingerprint, you say… I will point out to my minions to pay attention to the fingers, then. Although it is not necessary for them to be attached to the hand, is it?_', he wonders out loud. '_Nevermind. Just bring him to me and you can call your mission successful._'

I open my mouth to say something, but my heart pounding in my throat keeps me from speaking. I dreamed about it so many times. So many times… like, with that brilliantine businessman… I dreamt about having such option to choose. Just to wipe him off existence, without a need to entertain him first. So why am I not relieved now? Why everything I feel is emptiness?...

Maybe because it's not still the businessman guy from the hotel whom I wish a painful death every day and whom I'd love to see crippled, humiliated, at my mercy, just like many other scumbags I took care of before.

We talk about Dante Vale. The man who treats me like a partner, not a toy. The one who seems not to pay attention to my sexuality, but when he does, he is always so respectable and his compliments heart-warming. Just as if it wasn't obvious that a girl like me should be useful only in bed…

Klaus takes my silence badly.

'_I thought you would be satisfied with that solution_', he murmurs suspiciously. '_Am I mistaken?_'

If you asked me few days earlier, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd give everything just to smash that bearded mug of his and then wash my hands and walk away, satisfied with myself, sinking in luxury, admiration, privileges... But I'm not sure anymore. It just doesn't look right. Dante deserves something more than that. Something more… elegant. Like a last gift from me or something. It'd take more time, but at least it'd go my way.

However, I don't have it. And with Scarlet around, my mission is more endangered than ever.

'I will do that', I respond quietly. My voice was supposed to sound determined. It wasn't. It was like a faint whisper on a deathbed.


	16. Chapter 16: Faltering

**Hiya guys!  
**

I made it quick, didn't I? :D Probably 'cause this chapter isn't as long as they usually are. And I wrote in English right from the start! I'm quite proud of it. It wasn't as difficult as I thought! I forgot to mention that the previous one was also originally in English. You guys are right, it's easier and faster that way.

Only one person commented so far, then, there'll be only more response to the review:

- Joey8: Wow, that's good that I stood up to your expectations! I was especially worried about this chapter, since it's like an important checkpoint of Zhalia and Dante's relationship development. I'd be disappointed if someone wrote it badly, but now I'm on the other side of the barricade - I'm not the one judging, but the judged one! Good I have very nice critics :)  
I guess I was able to answer your question about Dante's view on Scarlet and her compared to Zhalia in this chapter. They are just my thoughts about why Dante isn't really interested in Scarlet and fancies other type of girl instead, however, maybe I exaggerrated some of his actions, words and gestures. I also used some of them to fit my opinion about their relationship.  
I also noticed how Dante cares about Zhalia's well-being during the mission. One could think he'd be displeased by her stillness during the fight, but not Dante! I added a part about him suspecting Zhalia of being ill to justify his worry even more. Well, you'll see yourself and state if you liked the idea or not :)  
Hahaha, did you read my ming somehow? 'Cause some guy like that will appear in two next chapters ^^ He was supposed to debut in chap. 16, however, I split the 15th into two parts and now chap. 16 turned into chap. 17. Those chapters will be completely mine, not basing on any episode. I'm so excited about them! I guess Kimberly would like them as well... ^^

I'm not going to blabber for another page. Just one word more: ENJOY!

Sha

* * *

**14th July 2009, Tuesday, 13:12**

**On the way to County Meath**

**Ireland**

'…As I'm actually writing a master's thesis on ancient burial grounds in Western Europe and their religious meaning for primitive cultures, I had to refresh my knowledge on the most famous spots of this type in Ireland and the UK. I started with the Palace of Boyne, like everyone would do in my place. Such a luck the largest European megalithic site is located in Ireland! Then, I'm going to visit Maeshowe in Scotland, and Brynn Celli Ddu in Wales. Of course Stonehenge is also on my mark…'

Dante nodded again, though he couldn't honestly say he had been listening. He was finding it really difficult to pay attention to Scarlet's monologue. At first he had thought they'd discuss the coming mission and exchange their remarks on the gathered info, however, he quickly realized that it wasn't the thing Scarlet was interested in. Although she was eager to share her knowledge with him, the scoops she had found were rather basic. During the talk, they interchanged with tales about her personal life too densely and out of blue. Getting some useful hints out of that mess wasn't that hard for a detective used to such disorganized speeches; but who said that separating the lentils from the ash was satisfying? He wasn't a Cinderella, damn it.

He waited for her to take a breath and then interrupted gently:

'Alright, but what about the clues suggesting there might be a Titan?'

Scarlet blinked few times; apparently, coming back to earth from the land of her goals and ambitions surprised her. However, she put herself together quickly.

'I found the essays of professor O'Kelly', she informed him, and seeing his expectant glare, she explained: 'You know, he led the 1962–1975 excavations… I found his disquisitions very interesting, as they contrasted greatly with the works of another researchers who regarded Newgrange as an evidence for the cult of the dead. However, professor O'Kelly stated the building of Newgrange _cannot be regarded as other than the expression of some kind of powerful force or motivation_', she quoted smoothly. 'Doesn't it sound familiar?'

'It does', Dante admitted, scratching his chin. 'The Titans have existed since ancient times and when they first appeared, humans regarded them as gods, eternal deities….'

'Exactly', Scarlet nodded, looking at him with admiration and excitement. 'It's no wonder they expressed their beliefs by creating such places in order to worship their protectors.'

Dante murmured in agreement, lost in his thoughts.

'Titans abandoned for ages tend to be unstable', he remarked. 'We'll have to be cautious, just in case it would go berserk.'

'No need to remind me', Scarlet smiled a bit. 'Don't you forget I'm a fully-fledged Seeker now.'

'I didn't mean anything bad', he added, though didn't feel ashamed at all.

'Don't worry', Scarlet waved her hand dismissively. 'When I think about it', she sat more comfortably at her seat and for a glimpse, looked at the landscape passing behind the glass as the train was flashing across the country, 'it seems almost like a dream… I signed my contract last year in April, remember? Right before we met. I was so excited!', she lowered her lids for a sec as a sign of embarrassment, then raised her intense stare at him without shying away, which gave him a strange feeling that it was a fake expression, a coquettish trick or something. 'My first day in the Foundation and I met its brightest star right away!'

He looked aside; though he heard compliments very often, he still couldn't get used to them. He preferred to move the course of the talk to safer areas.

'I hope to be lucky enough to see what progress you've made since then', he responded politely.

He quickly regretted it. Scarlet took the topic up willingly and started to tell him about her latest missions. If Dante really wanted to know that, he'd just open her Huntik profile. To make himself busy during another monologue, he checked what the others were doing.

Sophie leaned a small book on her lap and seemed lost in reading, only her eyes moved left and right. Dante peeked at the cover; _The Shadow Of The Wind_, a pocket edition. _Well, better than reading all those commercial harlequins about shiny vampires_, he guessed, smirking. Lok was eating one sandwich after another; when anyone was pointing it out to him, he was just shrugging and mumbling that he still grew up and needed a lot of food. Cherit accompanied him happily, chewing everything eatable; it was unclear if he also hoped to grow up despite his old age or if it was just his huge appetite. Dante wondered how many of their whining he'd have to stand when dinner time came and there would be nothing to eat. However, now everyone enjoyed the trip.

Well, almost everyone. Zhalia, curled in a distant part of the compartment, seemed rather sick. Her olive skin looked sallow, yellowish, like a clay mask, only her lips stroke with color, bloody red, with the skin bitten off. She had rings under her strangely glistening eyes, as if she hadn't slept well. Maybe due to the weather; the storm lasted the whole night. Or maybe she had a fever? He caught her glare and smiled to her gently, yet a bit worriedly; however, she didn't respond with her usual half-smirk, just twitched and turned to the window. Apparently something was wrong…

'Dante?', Scarlet addressed him a bit louder.

He shook his head and looked at her.

'I'm sorry', he murmured. 'I got distracted. What did you say?'

'I asked you about Zhalia', she repeated calmly, yet with curiosity coming through her kind voice.

'What about her?', Dante raised his brows. Maybe Scarlet also wondered if it was a right thing to take the woman for the mission.

'Who is she?', she investigated; a smile still on her face, but her eyes still and unmoved, like two mint drops. 'A friend of yours?'

Dante moved in his seat, feeling a bit uneasy. Was it any difference who Zhalia was? The most important thing was that if things would get rough, she'd be the only dependable person to help him out in defending the others. Of course if she would manage in that state…

'She's a capable Foundation operative', he answered firmly. 'One of the best. She once got us out of some serious trouble and we've been working together since.'

'Oh', Scarlet relaxed a bit, her chilly stare melting a bit. Then she giggled. 'As I see, your charm always makes women follow you everywhere you go…', she joked, tilting her head charmingly, like a cockatiel.

Dante cleared his throat and tried not to show his confusion. However, the Irish girl's gaze made him feel uneasy. Just like when he had met her in Venice. He had been pleasantly surprised when Uffizi, the Venice Compound chief, had introduced him to a young ethnology student. Her milky-white complexion had contrasted so strongly with fresh tans of Italian girls, however, she had looked nice with her long ginger hair dancing in the wind and fresh-green dress flowing around, accentuating her slender legs; like a nymph from far away woods who had gotten lost in the city noise. However, there hadn't been any sign of typical nymph-like insecurity in her face, raised high and embellished with a smile and playful sparks in her green eyes.

Asked to show her around the city, Dante had accepted out of politeness. They had spent quite a nice day together, visiting libraries, sightseeing and chattering. He had found Scarlet Byrne likeable, however, there were some things he wouldn't stand in any person, not only a fairly attractive girl. Like, for example, familiarity. Although he wasn't really a reserved person, there were topics he didn't like to be asked about on the first meeting. Maybe it was just him, used to hide his privacy and to question rather than be questioned… Scarlet didn't need any words of encouragement; she enjoyed talking about her personal life. Almost too much. Dante had learnt things he wouldn't even think about. It had puzzled him. He had been sitting in the small café, not knowing how to interrupt the talk nor change the topic, and just sipping his tea, wishing he was more assertive towards women. Those stupid manners. As a freaking gentleman, he had even seen her to the airport, paying for that with another stream of unnecessary info. He remembered his relief when Scarlet had finally given him a goodbye kiss on the cheek (a bit disturbing, as they had known each other only for a day!) and flew away. That had been one of the days Dante had felt like an old geezer, despite being only twenty six. He hadn't known when women had become so… outgoing. He hoped it would change for the better.

It hadn't. He had a feeling that in Scarlet's case, it had only gotten worse. Especially when it came to taking liberties with him…

Luckily, seeing his discouragement, Scarlet didn't continue the chatter. She looked out the window and announced cheerfully:

'We're almost here.'

**The same day, 14:31**

**Newgrange**

**County Meath**

**Ireland**

'This is it', Scarlet waved her hand before them, as if she had been showing them her domain, 'the Newgrange passage tomb, one of the oldest burial molds in the world!'

'How old?', Lok suddenly got interested; it wasn't specified if he said it only to show Scarlet his willingness to learn or was really moved by the silent, austere dignity of the round rock monument, surrounded by oval blocks covered in spiral carvings and mysterious symbols.

'35000 B.C., making it older than Stonehenge and the pyramids!', Sophie answered him without hesitation, finding a good opportunity to expose her knowledge. As always.

However, she was ignored. Lok had his eyes only for Scarlet today. Dante was glad that someone else kept her occupied. He gave the rest the way; the boy followed Scarlet, who waited for him before stepping inside. Sophie raised her eyebrows in a surprised manner, then entered the tomb as well. Cherit flew in gracefully. Just like Dante hoped, Zhalia stood unmoved. Her complexion in the sun looked even more waxy, with a thin layer of sweat despite the chilly wind. She stared at her feet, not noticing the world around her.

'Zhalia?', he began gently, with great concern. After all, it was his stupid Indiana Jones instinct which had made them go on that adventure. If Zhalia paid for this with her health, it'd be all his fault.

'Yeah?!', she twitched abruptly, her eyes widened and enlarged pupils burning like two charcoals. She really looked as if she had been running a temperature.

'Is everything alright?', he carried on, getting more and more worried every moment.

'It's… nothing', she shook her head a bit, as if she had been afraid of a headache. 'I'm fine.'

As if to prove that statement, she rushed into the tomb. Dante followed her with his stare. She was all that. She'd rather drop dead than complain. That was impressive, but sometimes… annoying. Especially when she tried to count on her own power despite her obvious limitations. Someday she'd meet her doom acting like that. Dante understood being cautious towards strangers, but they'd already been through so much dangers together that there was no point in doubting each other.

He caught up with her. She didn't turn to him, ignoring his presence. Probably she was angry with him for noticing her poor state.

'You don't have to act tough if you are unwell', he assured her mildly. 'You can skip this mission and give yourself a break. After all, Scarlet has enough assistants…'

She snarled, still omitting him with her stare.

'Of course! I bet you two would like to have less audience', she remarked sarcastically.

Dante didn't quite understand that statement; was she delirious?

'We can leave Sophie, Lok and Cherit here and go back to the Lamberts'. I will accompany you, in case you feel faint', he prevailed upon her, concerned about her strange behavior. She was giving him a cold shoulder, literally; when he touched it, it surprised him with its chilliness. And smoothness. Her skin was like a cool, soft silk. For a second, he forgot what he had tried to achieve, astonished by that impression. However, he regained his usual pose quickly when he felt Zhalia tensing, freezing under his fingers; her body was no longer pleasantly cool. Rather icy.

'Stop screwing!', she shook his hand off. 'There's no going back! It's too late for such choices! I decided to do that, so I will!', she clenched her fists, piercing him with her feverishly glistening eyes.

'Zhalia…', he mumbled, surprised by her unexpected outburst.

'Ahh, just f*ck off, will you?!', she growled, annoyed by his puzzled expression, and then rushed through the rocky hall, leaving him stunned.

Apparently, she wasn't as weary as he had thought if she was able to walk so fast and curse as heavily as usually… However, his anxiety hadn't faded.

Maybe it would have been a better idea for them to stay in Venice. Those holidays had a steep prize…

**The same day, 14:47**

**Newgrange**

**County Meath**

**Ireland**

Now I know why Klaus calls me hasty.

What a stupid reckless bitch I am! No wonder Dante gets suspicious. I scolded him like a mongrel pissing onto the carpet. I should keep calm rather than explode like a volcano… it's so unlike me. I have to make up for it. Somehow…

I stay close to Dante, trying to find a good opportunity to excuse myself and wipe off his doubts. However, every time I open my mouth, any reasonable words vanish from my head. What should I tell him? Explain that I'm on edge due to the importance of this day? That I'm worried that I'll fail due to being unprepared and surprised? And that my body, mind and spirit has failed me ever since the sleepless night? And I don't really know what kind of anxiety kept me awake? All those times I was about to fulfill my task, my thoughts were collected, placid, still. Maybe I wasn't exactly happy – not knowing that my actions would cause someone to lose everything – however, there was some kind of twisted satisfaction wrapping my heart and bending my lips in a mean smirk. That was some kind of revenge. On men, on humans in general. Sweeter than a thousand of Vienna cheesecakes.

But now… I just can't find a reason to be content, neither for revenge. There's a man who hasn't done anything bad towards me. You know, I can't even detest him for lusting for my body more than anything else, as he didn't even try to touch me in a sexual way. He's always so damn respectful. Always worried about my state. Admiring my skills. Asking for my opinion. Treating me like a partner. I can laugh off his softness, but hell, it's not something I could hate him for, no matter how much I try. And there aren't any serious flaws to detest, like, for example, being a lecher, a bastard, a bird-brain. I… I kinda like him. Like I would like a naïve puppy seeking my company even despite being kicked every time.

Ahh, damn it! Even stray dogs have to be eliminated sometimes, no matter how cute they are. Otherwise they'll someday bite through somebody's throat! I won't explain anything. What for? It won't matter after I'm done with him. It'll be over before evening. I just have to put some effort into it and keep my eyes open.

'Boltflare!', a flash jerking up from Dante's hand scares the darkness away.

'So where's this Titan supposed to be hidden?', Sophie looks around the cave, staring admiringly at the walls, covered in spiral markings up to the very ceiling.

'There's a secret chamber, all we have to do is find it', Scarlet informed us.

'Shall we?', Lok asks gallantly. She gives him a smile and takes his hand. I raise my eyebrows. Well, Miss Byrne doesn't give a shit about age, as I see… I think Mrs. Lambert should be more cautious when hiring a babysitter. Statistically, some pedophiles seek such job.

'Hey!', Sophie shouts suddenly, seeing their familiar grip. 'What's that all about?!'

I peek at her, surprised. Oh-hoh, so lady Casterwill finally lost her temper. I suspected it some time ago, when I told her about Lok's adorer from Medea Island. She didn't seem pleased… By the way, it's funny that a wimp like Lok has such a big fan club. Boys these days really don't have to do much to rapture girls…

'Sophie, is something wrong?', he asks, quickly letting go of Scarlet.

'I… ah…', Sophie mumbles, embarrassed by her sudden outbursts, waving her hand dismissively. 'Sorry, I don't know what came over me. Let's go', she adds quickly to avoid further investigation. I don't need another proof. You've already blown your cover, sweetheart.

We enter another chamber, however, for me they all look alike. I was never really into art and stuff, especially ancient or medieval. I've seen children drawing more proficiently than our forebears… All this blabbering about our heritage and pride of beginnings simply doesn't work on me.

'Let's take a look over here', Dante proposes.

Then, we come downstairs. I wrinkle my nose seeing several rock coffins placed around a column supporting the ceiling. Each of them has an image carved on the lid. Damn, if the artist used a real model, the Irish ancestors were really ugly. They passed it to some of their descendants, Scarlet, for example.

'Lok, Sophie, Scarlet, check it out!', Vale points at another stairs, however, something else strikes me more than his discovery. He omitted my name. Just like that. As if I wasn't here. I can understand he forgot about Cherit, but it's something different… He was so caring few minutes earlier. And now what? Yeah. It was so easy to brush me off his mind when the adventure is calling and Scarlet is watching him… So, I guess that wiping him off existence will be as easy for me.

'That lower area… Maybe there's supposed to be a special sarcophagus down there!', Sophie wonders.

'Wait a minute! That back wall is the only place in the whole tomb without any carvings!', Lok notices, showing us a plain brick in the depths of the chamber.

'That's because it's not a part of the tomb!', Dante realizes. 'It's much older, and it's not a wall! It's a door!', he adds, shocking the rest of the group. Except of me, of course. I'll have a better surprise for everyone today.

'So the legends are true…', Scarlet says in awe. 'Even with what I know as a Seeker, it's hard to believe!'

Dante encourages them to go down with a move of his head. I follow them reluctantly. I start to get nervous. Klaus was supposed to send me his device… Why is he late?!

Then, I hear a crack of stepped pebbles. Anyone else would think that they have just fallen from the ceiling or were moved by a rodent (there is a lot of them in places like this!), but I'm being responsive for such sounds today. I stop halfway, looking back. I notice a dark-skinned hand reaching above one of the coffins and dropping something onto the decedent's image, then hiding in the shadows again. I check if no one is observing me, then sneak up there. There's something round and thick on the rock; something that glistens metallically in the dimness, like a beetle's shell. I grip it. I expected it to be cold, however, it still keeps the warmth of someone's body; it was probably kept in the pocket for some time. Such a smooth, polished surface, with two bluish circles s on the convex covering. Eight spiky protrusions, three on each side and two in front. A death com… Such a pompous name for something that resembles a bug… A cockchafer or something. Especially while lying on my hand. I grasp it strongly, checking if I'd be able to crush it just like an insect. I only scratch my hand against the metal attachments. Quite a durable fellow, but… will he really be able to get rid of a man?

Maybe it'll fail. It's not that I would want it, it's just… a possibility, right?

I hide it in my pouch; good it always looks rather bulging, no one would notice any change. Then I come back to the rest. When I was away, they made some observations.

'I can sense a great magical power behind these door!', Sophie announces.

'Dante, you were right!', Scarlet turns to Vale with an astonished face, as if he was some kind of an idol. 'This wall is a different type of the rock than the rest of the tomb!'

'Wo-hoah, three cheers for Dante!', I comment spitefully, annoyed by her flattering manner of speaking. I should probably vent my anger at her, but Dante also deserves some put-down. What does he think, that every girl would treat him like a god? Pheh. Maybe soon, when he'll be in the other world.

He gives me an attentive stare, however, there's no sign of anger in his eyes. He seems… sad, as if I let him down somehow and he didn't understand why. Yes… why? Why am I so bitter towards him? It wouldn't hurt to be a bit nicer. Especially given that our ways will part in no time…

It starts sooner than I expected. Suddenly, Dante loses his interest in me; he looks aside and gets alarmed in a second.

'Lok!', he shouts and lashes at the boy, pushing him violently. Lok trips onto the ground a second before a blue bullet shoots Dante right at his abdomen. He hits the wall, then falls onto his knees, grasping the front of his sweater and gritting his teeth in pain.

'Dante!', Scarlet cries out in fear, rushing to his aid. 'Are you alright?', she asks with anxiety, catching his arm.

'I'll live…', he utters, panting from pain; he accepts Scarlet's help and stands up, squeezing her hand. I notice that he doesn't let go of it even when he's all up. Though I didn't get shot, I feel a sudden ache in my chest.

'The Organization!', Dante's voice wakes me up. I look at the stairs and notice three Suits. Oh well, not exactly, as they are dressed in a different manner: gray trousers, dull violet shirts, long navy blue trench coats. I met them so many times in Klaus' library…

'Good guessing, punk!', the dark-haired one mocks him with a distinctive Austrian pronunciation; I remember he once tried to spank me but Klaus forced it out of his mind by 'accidentally' dropping a venomous bee onto his hand. Maybe I should remind him how he jived all around the study back then.

'Hyperstride!', Dante casts a spell; I have to stay close, so I accompany him when he jumps over the Suits. We both land behind their back. Now we're not in the dead end, forced to stand our ground in a narrow chamber, like the rest. They'll shoot them out like ducks on the clear sky.

'Scarlet!', Lok shouts when the first blow barely misses the gingy's head. 'You better stand behind me!', he leaps before her and shields her with his body. Glad to know Miss Byrne can't even take care of herself and has to be protected by the biggest klutz ever!

'And you better stand behind me!', Sophie comes to his aid, knowing that his pretty words aren't enough to save their asses. 'Honorguard!

'Caliban!', Dante calls his strongest Titan to make up for useless members of our team.

'Bonelasher!', the Suit counters him with his familiar.

Now both Titans and their masters take care of each other. The dark-haired ass adorer quickly gets kicked at his jaw by Dante. He hits the wall, but before Vale manages to restrain him, he suddenly jumps forward and reaches out his open hand, surrounded by a mysterious purple light. It spread all around Dante's head like a transparent cage made of gas; like a storm cloud, crossed by dazzling discharges. I've never seen a spell like this, it must be Klaus' newest invention, otherwise he'd teach me that…

However, I'm not sure if I'd like to know this. Vale gasps in surprise, a dazed shout escapes his open mouth. I notice his eyes widened in shock before he gets pushed to the ground, his back turned to me. He freezes in this position, unable to twitch.

'What's the matter, Vale?!', the Austrian Suit asks him ironically. 'Did Hyperstide take something out of you?!'

He doesn't respond, shaking like an electric eel. So it's not only the looks, it's really some kind of electricity… Out of blue, I recall a book lying on Klaus' desk on that memorable day of the mission assignment. I never really paid attention to it before, I didn't even know I remembered that. But now I see it clearly: '_Death Penalty Throughout History_', and a hot chair on the cover… I didn't give a damn about it then, Klaus' has always had strange hobbies, but… if I knew what he was going to do with that knowledge…

I once watched '_The Crow: Salvation_' in his room. He sniffed at it, not accepting my strange habit of wasting time watching bad horror movies despite my obvious disdain and sarcasm towards them. However, he stopped when Alex Corvis' execution started. He turned the sound up, sat beside me and watched the scene with surprising attention, his eyes burning with disturbing hunger. Though I'm usually stern during such scenes, the atmosphere of the dark library full of the specimens' flashing eyes, the doubled shouts and Klaus' perverse fascination made me switch the channel. Unluckily, there was '_The Green Mile_'. Klaus smirked and nodded in approval when the scumbag ward didn't put the wet sponge on the big black guy's head. Even I knew that without it, the killing jolt wouldn't bring an instant death.

This spell is like the death chair execution without the sponge. But it's just an image. Just a screenshot. It'll fade away soon. It's enough to close my eyes not to see the burning skin, goggled eyes, roasting flesh…

'Zhalia, what's the matter with you?!', Sophie's voice wakes me up from the slumber. 'Do something!'

It's too late. I can't do anything. I agreed to Klaus' plan.

'Sabriel, help him!', Sophie loses patience seeing my ignorance. Her swift Titan rushes to Dante's aid; the dark-haired persecutor gets pushed away, releasing his prey. Vale catches his head, as if it was going to get separated from his body; he pants hard, blinking and trying to regain consciousness.

'Everfight', he murmurs, getting up; the golden mist gets under his skin and rejuvenates him. I watch him standing and can't say a thing. It's hard to believe the spell didn't turn his brain into a pudding, but he seems to be fine... Unlike me. When he moves into the fight to help the kids, I feel my knees shaking. I stick to the wall, catching deep breaths and nailing my fingers into the rock.

I'll vomit. I will for sure. I haven't for so many times while I was watching the Suits during work, but now… my guts twine like snakes, biting me from the inside. Why? It is just a repetition of my usual duties. Just another casual day of my life. Eliminating a guy. No problem for Zhalia Moon.

So why now…? I was prepared for that… I… I thought I was…

**The same day, 15:16**

**Newgrange**

**County Meath**

**Ireland**

'Those weren't just average Suits', Dante stated when the last attacker had fallen onto the floor unconscious and his shattered team had gathered next to the rock he was standing on. He jumped onto the ground, still feeling a faint ache in his temples. He looked at the numb man at his feet and wondered again how on earth they could have surprised them like that. 'They were smart, and armed with strong Titans. We have to be careful.'

Lok nodded seriously. Dante was glad he took this to heart, though he had noticed how well he had been standing his ground in this fight. Quite a progress he had made, especially in controlling Lindorm. After all, the violent dragon hadn't hurt any of the teammates, just smashed the Suits like a bowling ball knocking down the skittles.

'Scarlet, are you alright?', the boy asked with concern, touching Byrne's arm.

'I think so', she responded gratefully to her knight. This was justified – during the whole clash, there had been times where Scarlet had been in danger. And hadn't done anything to defend herself. It was the young Lambert who protected her. Dante had expected something more from her after a year of being a 'fully-fledged Seeker', as she had said herself. At least Boltflare, which could be used either as a lantern and a bullet. Even Lok had learnt so.

Sophie seemed as disappointed by the Irish Seeker. However, she vent her anger at someone else.

'Why don't you ask how Zhalia is?!', she growled.

'Eeeeh…? What?', Lok looked at her, dumbstruck.

'Ask how Zhalia is!', she repeated sharply. 'Oh no, wait a minute', she rolled her eyes theatrically, 'she's fine! She stood there and did nothing when the rest of us fought for our lives!', she continued more and more furiously.

Dante couldn't believe it. Of course, he wasn't really aware what had happened to Zhalia after he had gotten paralyzed by the Suit. However, he was sure that Sophie exaggerated her fault. She was always too harsh on her rival. Zhalia certainly had a good explanation. He peeked at the woman approaching them, encouraging her to justify her behavior. She caught his glare and quickly lowered her stare.

'I… I don't know', she mumbled, pulling and creasing her sleeve. 'I… suddenly felt sick', she added in a whisper, looking at him from under her lashes, as if she had been embarrassed to admit that his observations and suggestions from before the mission had been right. She seemed ashamed of her previous stubbornness.

He sighed silently, forbearingly, giving her a soothing look to show her that she had been forgiven.

'We'll talk about this later', he warned her, though; he was going to lecture her about putting her life at risk by pretending to be a Wonder Woman instead of accepting her temporary limitations. He promised he'd lock her in her room and force her to rest when they came back. However, he couldn't accompany her home right now, like he had offered her earlier, and leave the rest at the Suits' merit; neither send her home alone, knowing that there might have been more of the Organization operatives waiting outside the tomb. She'd have to keep holding on a little longer.

'For now, we have a mission', he reminded them. 'Sophie…', he said suggestively, pointing at the magical door.

'Sure thing', the girl snarled, giving Zhalia a disgusted look before she turned away.

She approached the entrance and reached her hands out, sensing the door's magic.

'Breakspell!', she said clearly and then her hands got covered in a strange bluish aura.

Scarlet gasped in surprise observing how the light spread and engulfed the brick. She had really seen a few things… There was still a long way before her. But, Dante thought just a bit patronizingly, that was no surprise if she was focused more on the already written materials for her master's thesis than discovering the world's secrets in reality.

Sophie's magic managed to break the enchantment in an explosion of energy, however, she seemed a bit tired after that.

'Whatever Seeker locked this, he was really powerful!', she said with respect. 'I can only open the door for a short time!', she underlined meaningfully.

'We'll have to hurry', Scarlet stated the obvious thing.

'Lok, Sophie, Cherit, stay here and warn us if the Suits come back', Dante ordered. 'Zhalia, you better…'

'I'm going with you', she interrupted him. 'I… I want to make up for my uselessness', she explained quickly, seeing his surprised stare. 'I'll watch your back or something.'

'I don't think…', Scarlet began, but Dante didn't let her finish the sentence. He thought that having Zhalia around, he'd be able to keep an eye on her and help her if she'd feel faint again.

'Alright', he accepted. 'Just be careful.'

Then, he entered the chamber, ignoring both Sophie's and Scarlet's discontent stares.

**The same day, 15:24**

**Newgrange**

**County Meath**

**Ireland**

So good everyone treat me like a pensioner. That way, I don't have to pretend that I'm interested in the obelisk both Dante and Scarlet examine closely – almost reaching to the ceiling, covered in strange carvings of grotesque men, awkward animals and slanting signs and lightened at the top, like a rocky torch. They work in silence, focused, concentrated, until…

'Dante', Scarlet speaks up.

'Do you see something?', Vale asks carefully, stopping his observations.

'No, it's just… ah…', she smiles shyly, but every fool would notice that it's just a façade which hides a sly flirt, 'I wanted to say… that it's been really great working with you', she raises her gleaming eyes at him.

'For me too', Dante gives the compliment back. 'You do a good work.'

Aaah. If they get any more upbeat, it's gonna give me a headache… Oh wait, I've already had a headache. Their sweetness only makes it worse. Geeez, a good work? Open your eyes, you moron. She hasn't summoned any Titan so far, more, I've never seen her using powers! And she dares to call herself a Seeker? Pheh! She won't be a match for me even if she gets involved in my plan of eliminating Dante… It'll be nice to see her fiery hair burning _literally_.

'What do you think?', Vale's so lost in the riddle; his hand touches one of the ornaments.

'It's ancient Gaelic', Scarlet recognizes immediately.

'So, can you read it?', he moves his eyebrows in that funny manner which always brings a smirk on my face, no matter how hard I resist it. But it doesn't work now. Because he's not making that face to me. Mr. Vale the Great was offended by some mere operative yelling at him back then, huh. As you want, you big-headed moron. A war, then.

I reach for the device in my pouch, slide my fingers across its metallic shell, then grasp it and draw out, hiding it in my hand. It'll settle the matter.

'It'd be a snap for me!', Scarlet responds proudly, then takes a closer look at the runes. '_Here lies the weapon of a great dog warrior…_', she reads carefully, sliding her finger across the runes.

'According to the history, the Irish hero Cuchulainn was supposed to be named after a dog…', Dante recalls.

'And it's a local legend that he fought his last battle where Newgrange stands, right here!', Byrne complements his observation.

'Interesting…', he admits.

Dante's completely absorbed in his puzzle. Now's the perfect time…

But why so fast? Why… why am I reluctant to end this?

I said many times that I'd rip his head off, slash it open, tear him into pieces. It was just a threat. Just a saying. However, I've just realized that no matter how many times I swore that, I have never imagined it. I have never thought of eliminating him for real. It was more like a… a scene from a cartoon – you know, those times when characters get splashed like pancakes and then get up with a smile, or hang above the abyss for some time and fall into it right after realizing it. No blood. No suffering. No pain. And, more important, no killers. Their fate always remains unknown. They don't matter. They are just necessary to move the plot and fulfill their duty. No one cares what happens to them after they do so. The movie ends with the main heroes' victory, the bad guys just fading away throughout the story.

If I knew what happens to the villains...

What would it change? Nothing. I'll write my own story with the evil sorceress living happily ever after.

I raise the death com and take aim at Dante's back right when he's raising his hand and pointing at the human image on the obelisk.

'See how Cuchulainn's holding up the spear?', he asks Scarlet. 'Looks familiar?'

'A Titan!', she realizes, opening her eyes wide, then flings her arms around Dante's bicep. 'That's how a Seeker invokes one!'

I grit my teeth seeing her taking liberties with Dante. He doesn't protest. I've never seen him letting anyone be so familiar with him. He seemed like a reserved type of guy. At least towards me… He didn't try to do anything crossing a border between a slight flirt and a serious interest, even during our so-called date. But… now he enjoys having Scarlet so close. Her warmth, her admiration, her spontaneous reactions… So, it's just me who detests him. Just me whom he doesn't like to touch longer that it's necessary. As if he knew. As if he looked beneath my pretty cover and sensed an inner deformity. It's normal he doesn't want to be afraid of this hidden, mysterious defect. Or maybe he didn't even have to go that deep? I push him away with my every word. Just today… I treated him like a cunt. No wonder he prefers to be a hero for Scarlet than a scapegoat for me…

I should end this now. And quick. 'Cause I want to finish my career saying that no man have never moved me. And if I continue that kind of wondering, it'll be a lie.

No. It is a lie already.

'_Despite what Sophie says, I know that at the end of the day, I can trust you._'

No one's ever said that to me before. I still remember the warmth which wrapped around my heart at his unexpected confession. I should have laughed it off given that I have been tricking him ever since, but… I didn't. I just sat there dumbstruck and fought with my thoughts.

'That must be it!'

And… there were more times like this. He convinced me to eat something sweet. He was the first person complimenting me in such a nice way. He carried me to my room after the fight over King Basilisk. He didn't take advantage on me, though I was sitting on a bed, barely knowing what was going on with me. He… he protected me many times, even if it's so hard to admit it, even if I saved his ass as often.

'The spear of Cuchulainn… What was it called?'

'Gybolg!'

'Holotome, give me the info on a Titan named Gybolg.'

While they're examining the Titan, I struggle with my thoughts. Yeah, right. I do not owe Dante anything. Klaus did way more for me. He gave me a new life. I should be loyal towards him. And… And… there's no option I'd disobey the Professor. He's erratic. One bad move and goodbye, Zhalia. It's way more reasonable to be on the Professor's side than against him. It'll only get better after I bring him Dante Vale. Professor will reward me and grant my every wish. There won't be a thing unavailable for me…

'That's out boy. Put your hand on the obelisk and call out: _Gybolg_.'

'OK.'

'I think we're about to make a major discovery…'

…however, before I achieve this, I'd have to watch how the death com deals with Dante. I look at the armored jaws, able to pierce men's skin with no problem. I suddenly feel sick, the bile is coming up my throat and wants to escape in no time, my stomach gets over-stimulated by the visions created by my raging mind. The sanguinary insect biting through Dante's duster and sweater, then ripping his flesh and going deeper, tearing his muscles apart, shattering his guts, turning his bowels into a pulp, drain him of all his power, strength… and dignity. Just a scrap of bloody meat, and not a slightest spark in his golden eyes, so full of emotions until then, glistening with life… no chance of hearing my name sounding so melodiously again… no smiles warming up the pit of my stomach… no, no, no…

'NO!', I choke out, my arm falls.

Dante and Scarlet turn around, shocked by my scream. I tremble, however, I have as much consciousness as to hide the death com behind my leg. I wouldn't know what to tell them if they asked what I need it for. They look at me questioningly, not understanding my reaction. Luckily, I don't have to explain anything.

'Dante, help!', our attention gets caught by Sophie's piercing yell. Vale doesn't hesitate – he leaves the obelisk and runs up the stairs, passing me by. Scarlet follows him quickly, throwing me a strange stare before she vanishes in the dark. No time to think what I've just done - I catch up with them halfway. We quickly find Sophie – she lies with her butt on the rocky floor, with her hand hanging in the air towards the closed slab.

'What's going on?!', Dante asks, helping her stand.

'Lok pushed me through', she explains nervously, 'he's trying to protect me! We have to help him!', she insists, shivering. Lok defending the whole team? It can't end up well…

'Can you break the seal again?!', Scarlet asks, as tense as the Casterwill.

'I hope so!', Sophie utters, then flashes the first blow at the brick. It splashes against it and disappears without effects.

'The seal is stronger from this side!', Dante remarks with shock, then draws out an amulet. 'Lend us strength, Metagolem!'

The clay giant occupies the rest of the space left in the narrow hall. We girls get squeezed to the walls, luckily, the colossus quickly approaches the slab, letting us breathe freely.

'Come on, big guy', Dante encourages him, casting Dragonfist on his hands. 'Let's do it together.'

They both brace their feet against the ground and start to pull the magical door. However, it barely moves.

'Wait a moment!', Scarlet says suddenly. We peek at her, expecting some spectacular idea of opening the door. 'Since we won't be able to get back, let's at least grab the Titan!'

'Go', Dante agrees through his gritted teeth, leaning on the rock with his whole body. 'Just make it quick.'

Scarlet comes back to the obelisk chamber. We hear her calling Gybolg; meanwhile Dante and Metagolem manage to create a small gap between the wall and the edge of the slab.

'Almost got it', he drawls, pulling the rock more easily than before; the hole enlarges every minute… revealing the dark-haired Suit standing behind it.

'Talk about your sitting ducks', he makes a wry joke and raises a hand with Augerfrost in it.

'DANTE, GET DOWN!', Sophie yells, aware of the danger.

'I can't let go of the door now…', he protests, sweat coming down his temple.

'It's over!', the Suit beams, sliding his finger through his neck in a very suggesting way: like a knife. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my flesh… and a metallic cover of the fake bug.

'Oh no!', Sophie is about to rush to Dante's aid, but…

'Hold it!', I stop her when a crazy idea crosses my mind. After all, I still have an ace up my sleeve… 'I hope this works on objects… Death com!', before I change my mind, I throw the device forward.

The round mechanism sticks to the wall above Dante's elbow. It digs into the rock and suddenly, the brick lightens in an unearthly flash. The charm breaks in a loud poop, the slab goes aside so quickly that Dante loses balance and falls onto his knees, however, he lands gracefully like a hunting panther. When he raises his head, his stare is sharp, clear and confident like always.

'You've had your fun', he throws coldly. 'Now for the rough stuff…', he growls, then adds in a shout: 'Attack!'

His voice shoots a shiver through me. There's no way I'd resist that call.

'Fight for your lady, Kilthane!', I summon the dark knight.

'Icarus, Feyone, appear!', Sophie cries out, also encouraged by our leader's command.

'Gybolg, attack!', Scarlet joins us, coming back from the chamber with something in her raised hand; an amulet! A lot of twines emerge from the ground, wrapped in streams of energy, tying with each other, forming a tall silhouette with a mane made of leaves. It looks like Treebeard from Tolkien's books, except of the cleaver's sword it carries! I notice that Dante exchanges stares with Scarlet, as if they were happy that their assumptions were true. I feel a tiny itch in my chest. Pheh, one Titan and no powers… I'll show her some real skills.

I've got an opportunity: after a signal made by Lok (pushing two Suits and knocking them down), we rush at the attackers arm in arm. I'm going to find the spanker. I'm also very interested in his butt. More precisely, in kicking it.

**The same day, 16:02**

**Newgrange**

**County Meath**

**Ireland**

'Well, I think we should stop disturbing the dead men's peace', Dante judges, looking at the beaten Suits covering the floor.

I walk between them, a bit uneasy. After all, I am at their side… but I enjoyed beating them into a pulp. I really did. Imagine me chasing after the spanker like a wild cougar! The funniest part was him hanging on Kilthane's sword and me treating him like a boxing bag. It helps to let off some steam. Especially after such a crazy day. And, you know, no one held back during the fight. Even Mrs. Lambert!

Imagine my surprise when I saw her here, among the Suits, smacking their mugs with such a power as if they were dirty spots on her favorite table cloths or clumps in her spectacular pie. No wonder the Lamberts' house is so clean and well-organized. No one dares to disobey the Badass Mommy! Who would've thought she's such a tigress seeing her hug Lok after the clash…

It arises a strange throb in my chest again. I leave them alone, I don't really like family scenes. They are always so soppy, cliché and… so touching… My teeth would get rotten due to the sweetness, and, you know, I'd rather not endanger them. Especially when the white-fanged Scarlet is nearby.

I come up the stairs. Dante is ahead of me, his dusty cloak flows before me. It got a bit shabby, but who cares? It has never looked glamorous for me, and Dante doesn't seem to mind, as we're all looking alike, covered in sand, scratches and bruises. Suddenly, he stops; I almost bump into his wide back.

'Zhalia?', he turns to me, his eyes examine me attentively. I freeze. What's going on? I thought I made up for my previous blunders. You know, that stupid shout, my biting remarks and strange behavior. I was so close to get away unquestioned…

Unexpectedly, Dante gives me a gentle smile which shocks me so much that I repeat the gesture without even thinking about it, unlike the other times when I'd rather wash it off his face with a put-down.

'Good job', he praises me softly, his eyes like two pots of mead, so sweet, mild and deep. 'I knew I could trust you.'

I look at his turning back, stunned, paralyzed, unable to move, breathless, tongue-tied… though I'd like to say something to stop him, to keep him here just for a moment longer, just to let me take a closer look and see if his stare wasn't just a phantasm, that the pure likeness I noticed in the way he bent his lips and raised his eyebrows wasn't just my wild imagination…

He hasn't smiled like that even to Scarlet. All the crazy shit I did today… It was worth just those two seconds when I thought that… that someone was happy to have me by his side. What a twist of fate that if I used the death com appropriately, I'd never be able to receive such a gift…

Once in a while, it's good to turn into a fruity jughead.

**The same day, 21:43**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

'I can't believe it!', Lok exclaimed, waiting for his chocolate to cool a bit. 'You were a Seeker all along!', he addressed his mother with disbelief.

'Once a Foundation girl, always a Foundation girl', his mother responded proudly.

'If I had my way, you do a lot more than these… sandwich slash rescue missions', he said jokingly, yet with unquestioned affection shown in his emphatic eyes. 'You're my hero!', he stated in awe, greatly pleasing his touched mother. She just looked aside, embarrassed, but Dante noticed a smile playing on the corners of her lips and tears appearing on her lower lashes. He also smiled, though without tears. Women. So full of incomprehensible contradictions…

'Speaking of heroes, how about Scarlet?', Lok carried on.

'We wouldn't have found the Titan without her!', Sophie supported him much to everyone's surprise. However, there wasn't any irony in her voice. Dante didn't know what had happened that the Casterwill, rather unfriendly for the Irish Seeker at the beginning, had changed her mind. Another proof of women's changeability… As well as Scarlet's great enter in the tomb. Dante didn't expect such a turn of the tables from a girl who lacked any notable powers and achievements.

'You're a real asset, Scarlet', he complimented her to make up from his previous unfair judgment.

'Thanks, Dante, that means a lot', she responded, giving him a faint smile. Instead of blossoming with joy after the success of their research, she stayed rather silent and thoughtful. Her face only fell when Lok asked suddenly, looking around:

'Hey, where's Zhalia?'

Dante pricked his ears. He'd also like to know that. He hoped for a short talk with her before going to bed. There were few things he wanted to tell her and do. Like, scolding her for accepting a mission despite feeling unwell. Taking care that she lied wrapped in a warm duvet, drank some hot tea and took medicines. Warning her that he was going to strap her to the bed if she didn't stay there willingly and tried to get up before being completely cured. Offering that he'd bring her a book or his holotome to let her scare away boredom. Proposing to stay by her side in case she needed something. And, if she accepted, thanking her. For everything… especially for not letting him down.

'She's in her room', Mrs. Lambert responded. 'She said she wanted to be left alone.'

Dante sighed noiselessly. Of course. She must've been tired after the whole day of struggling with her illness and the whole Newgrange mess. He shouldn't have disturbed her. There would be a lot time to talk after she got better. He just hoped it'd happen before their break was over. He wanted to take her for a walk through the beautiful meadows of Ireland.

He felt his mouth bending in a smile; to hide it, he took a sip of his chocolate. However, he highly doubted it was the sweet liquid's merit that his heart warmed like that.

**The same day, 21:44**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

What should I do now?

Happy ending is happy ending, but there is always something after that, right? It's easier to deal with all the complicated situations by cutting in the least complex moment, huh. The rest isn't as simple as it appears.

I still have to report to Klaus and tell him that… well, that I failed. It won't even be a lie, but… I can't also let myself be completely sincere with him. It's best not to say much. Just a laconic summary. Yeah, that should be enough.

I have to pay the piper if I was as stupid as to oppose him… No, stop. I wasn't. I did what I should have done earlier. I should protest against snooping in my task. After all, it was MY mission. It was MY duty to take care of Dante, and I will be the one to decide how to do that, damn it! No sudden plot twists. No nonsensical orders. No interrupting. It is supposed to be my success and I'm the only one who can crown my work the way I like. I don't want the whole Organization to tell the tales about me passing the buck for Vale's elimination on a bug! I'd have to be ashamed my whole life. It must be elegant, sophisticated and elaborate. And look less awful than a bloodthirsty dung beetle fasting on human flesh. It won't change his fate. But at least it will change mine. I won't have to crawl into a hole every time someone makes fun of the way I dealt with things.

I sigh with relief. Yeah. Now I'm the one dictating the conditions. Not a robot programmed to do her job. Not a tool. Rather a professional spy who won't let anyone mess her perfect plan.

With my spirit raised by that vision, I quickly reach for the cell and dial Klaus. I take deep breaths with every signal ringing in the receiver.

'_Zhalia, my dear, I hope you have good news for me'_, Klaus speaks finally, barely hiding his impatience and excitement.

Why it seemed so easy before I heard him? I don't know what to say. But I have to. I must. Damn it, now or never! Are you a born cheater or not, Zhalia?!

'I'm sorry Klaus, I don't', I respond firmly, hoping I sound disappointed enough.

'_What do you mean?_', his voice changes in a flash, now sounds like barking.

'I couldn't sabotage the mission', I continue, trying to say as much as possible before my words fail me. 'I… I didn't get the chance.'

I pray he took the moment of hesitation for a sign of shame.

'_You didn't get the chance?..._', he repeats, drawling the syllables.

Damn, he didn't. That stupid stutter! If not that, I'd manage to carry the talk smoothly. Now I swallow hardly, my boldness disappearing in a blink of an eye, drained from me by Klaus' suspicious way of speaking. He has a power over me even from such a distance… No, I can't let him interrogate me. The longer the talk drags, the more things won't match after his Suits get back to Vienna and tell him about our encounter. I bet the dark-haired spanker won't go easy on me. Klaus doesn't like him after his carrying-on, but some of his words may strike some suspicions in his mind.

'I'm sorry, it just didn't work out…', I add quickly, and I don't even have to play sorry, a part of me regrets the mistake I've made due to the fear of consequences, but there's no backing down. 'I… I can't talk right now', I come up with the most naive excuse ever, but I feel that if I continue the talk, I'll sing everything to him, just to let this burthen off my heart. However, I can't. Klaus won't praise my civil courage and forgive everything I've done just because I decided to be honest with him.

I disconnect before he protests and hide the cell back in the suitcase, as if it could separate me from the problems aroused by my rash decision. I put both hands beside my head and try to push away my worries about what happens when Klaus consults with his minions and finds the differences in our stories. Luckily he can't do much from Vienna, and before he chooses a right punishment, I'll placate him with some spectacular discovery. Yeah, I will. For sure. I will have a whole week at the Lamberts' to take care of it.

Despite my bold affirmations, I twitch when the cell rings again. I break a cold sweat. It's just a message… Should I open it? Or maybe leave it for tomorrow and get some peaceful sleep? No, it won't be peaceful if I'll wonder who texted me and what he wrote. It's better to have it done.

I take the phone and check the sender. _Dante_. I raise my eyebrows, surprised, however, a balloon of anxiety punctures and vanishes immediately. I can open the text calmly.

_I didn't want to bang at your door in case you were sleeping, but I wanted to say: Goodnight, Zhalia. Have pleasant dreams._

_P.S. You were amazing today. It's an honor even to be yelled at by someone like you...' _

Why such a nice message is arising even more fears in me? Why can't I just be happy that a nice guy compliments me? Why can't I laugh it off, shrug and forget about it? Maybe 'cause I don't really feel amazing. Despite all I am trying to make myself believe, I'm not brave, tough and strong. I'm puzzled. Especially by the unknown reason of my disobedience towards Klaus. I seek it, but I can't find it. It can't be only due to the way Dante says my name. Nor the gleam of his unusual irises. Neither the warmth of his smile and the kind words he wrote. They are pleasant, but disturbing as well. They even cause a strange tingle in my chest. 'Cause I know that despite how pretty it looks on the outside, I don't deserve them. He doesn't know the whole story. He sees only the bright side. They are always easier to chew than those looking and tasting like ashes. Would he be so willing to bestow me with his favors if he knew the whole truth?

I sigh and bundle in my bedding, clenching my fists and pressing them to my cheek. I don't want to think about anything. I just want to zone out. However, when I close my eyes, the space under my lids isn't black. It's honey gold.


	17. Chapter 17: Tomb Raider

**Hi guys!  
**

Yeah, you probably think 'What's up with that casual greeting? She left us for THREE WEEKS, damn it!' I know I've been away for too long. I'm terribly sorry, but that's the way it turns out when exams start... You know, it's my first university exam session and I'm FREAKINGLY PANICKING! This week will be a disaster for me. I had just two exams last week, and now I will have 5. FIVE EXAMS! Two on Monday and one on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. The whole week of FEAR! I had a lot things to refreshen before taking them, so that's why my writing had to me moved onto the second place for a while.

I know it's a lame excuse, but it's true. So, please, don't blame for such a long wait. I did my best to finally finish this chapter. I was writing it during the breaks in studying or in the evenings when I wanted to relax. However, the days of stuffing myself with Japanese made me too tired to be very original. I'm not sure this chapter came out the way I intended it to. I may re-write the end if you won't like it... but I hope you will. It would really raise my spirit before the tests. I'm not trying to play on your emotions, thought. Speak the truth. If you don't like how I introduced Ryder, then throw it at my face. No mercy. I deserve it for neglecting the story for so long.

Reviews, emerge!

- Joey8: Praise you for letting Dante and Zhalia have some earlier crushes! I've always thought that they didn't live their lives in celibate. I can't imagine Dante being a virgin. A grown-up, healthy, handsome and popular guy like him?! Also, he was raised by Metz, who was quite a lady-killer... Of course I'm not against guys who wait for that one in a milion to have their first time with. But come on, there's not many people like them. Zhalia is a typical femme fatale for me. I don't want her to be a bitter girl who knows no love, blah blah, as she is portrayed in the show. I'll at least let her taste physical love. Emotional... let's leave it for now.  
I'm not completely sure if I agree with your view on the Deathcom thing. I've never seen it that way. But it's not like I deny it. Maybe I just gave it a skip.  
Thank you for the messages you sent me! They really gave me a kick to get back to work! May the muse of writers bless you!  
- Jess: Scarlet is not my favourite character either (you will see it also in this chapter), but she is important to the plot and causes a lot of twists. I mean things like making Zhalia jealous, flirting with Dante and letting him show his disinterest in her... and a lot of misunderstandings. And more are coming this and the next chapter...  
- Kimberly: I'm sorry I won't show how Dante will react to know that Zhalia has an admirer. Not yet, huh. Soon, very soon. It will have its time in the story. For now, Ryder appears to him as a mere Organization agent :D Poor, naive Dante...  
This chapter isn't quite the way "Chasing the Butterfly" was, however... I hope you will like it, as there are hints of Dante's affection towards Zhalia and her faltering as well.  
Don't worry! C is not a bad grade. At least you passed, right? I wish I could get a C counterpart on university from History! It's a nightmare for me. Wish me luck!  
- Allytsuki: Thank you, new Reader, for favoriting my story :) Let me know what you think about it, OK? I'm waiting for your opinions.

And it concerns all of you, Readers!

Enjoy Ryder's entry and best wishes!

Sha

P.S. A 'gorb', a word Mrs. Lambert uses, means a glutton in Irish. I found it in the Internet, so I'm not sure if it's correct. But it seems fine :)  
P.S. 2 Due to Joey8's suggestion, I changed one sentence. Thanks for your help, now it makes a lot more sense! :)

* * *

**15th July 2009, Wednesday, 8:00**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

Damn it… If I knew I would pay for the Irish visit by insomnia, I'd never leave my cozy Venice hotel. Was it the bed's fault? Or the new, unfamiliar place? Or my emotions raging after the eventful day? Don't know what was the reason. Enough saying, I spent the whole night wriggling in my bed, feeling my heart throbbing and my head aching. I tried to take short, nervous naps, but they didn't last long, quickly broken by sudden trembles coming through me and itches of anxiety, piercing like needles. When I finally managed to get some more rest, I had an awful dream. In this one, I was wandering around a lost, dark tomb. I didn't know what for, but I listened to a voice calling my name. A man's voice. I had a feeling that if I find him, I'd be rescued. So I tried, making my way through a stream of bugs flooding my feet. The insects were biting my heels and giggling meanly, and when I tried to crush or shake them off, I noticed they all had Scarlet's face. I lifted one of them and squeezed it in my hand. I ignored its jaws nibbling at my palm. I felt the Suits' breaths on my neck, heard their footsteps chasing after me through the labyrinth of rocky halls… but then, a tall silhouette appeared in a circle of light, on a background of sun shining through the oval entrance, a gust of wind ruffled my hair and filled my nostrils, clearing them off the mustiness of the underground. He reached his hands out to me; I spurted, but it was too late; the Suits' hands caught me and pulled back, through I struggled, scratched and bit. I called to the man standing on the stairs, hoping he'd rush to my aid, but he didn't move. Then, out of anger, I cursed him heavily and threw the Scarlet-faced bug at him. It hit him right at his chest, stretched its legs, embraced him in a tight, almost lascivious manner, but I knew it was going to absorb him, to consume his heart and digest it slowly. And I didn't feel satisfaction. All that filled me was pain, regret and desperation. 'Come on, jelly', the dark-haired spanker tugged my elbow, 'Klaus told me I could keep your chunky ass, but he wants to have your fingerprint…' But I knew he was lying, as he was pulling me onto the hot chair buzzing pressingly…

And then a flashing brightness hit my eyes and I jerked up with a choked shout, 'The sponge!', panting and finally realizing that I'm safe, I'm not going to be executed and the sudden ray was a sunbeam falling through the clean windows and lacy curtains into a cozy room, not a torture chamber. And the sinister beeping was caused by nothing else than the alarm clock preset yesterday to wake me up at 8 a.m.

I breathe heavily, squeezing my hands on the creased sheet and listening to the vibrations of my cell. My brow furrows harder every moment because of the irritating sound. I finally lose my temper and take the phone from the bedside cabinet, pressing the red button violently, then throwing it onto the mattress, where it lands with a creaking thud. I hide my face in my hands, digging my fingers into my hair, as if I was going to scratch them off my head. I feel nauseous and tremble though the whole room is stuffy and sweat is coming down my back.

_Have pleasant dreams, Zhalia._

Yeah, thanks, Dante. Pleasant as hell. I'll drop dead from amazement, literally.

The tension eases slowly; eventually, I sigh and fall onto my back with my arms flung above my head. I feel sand in my eyes. I woke up as tired as I fell asleep. But taking one nap more is pointless, I'll only struggle with another nightmares. But maybe they were only caused by clamminess? I should get up and ventilate the room, then think about the rest.

I approach the window and examine the strange shutters. It takes a while before the latch fails, but I finally open them wide. I lean over the windowsill, close my eyes and take deep breaths, letting the wind clear the air. The weather is so nice; a bit windy, but the sun is shining so brightly and its beams touch my cheeks so fleetingly, playfully… I should take advantage on that and go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will blow all the monstrous visions out from inside me and bring some inner peace instead.

That idea stimulates me to move. I go to the bathroom, take a short, cold shower, brushing off every sign of tiredness and refreshing myself. When I get out of the cabin, I have goose bumps, but my skin finally doesn't feel numb. Wrapped in a light-colored towel, I clean my teeth and brush my hair, frizzing them a bit. They're a bit wild today, but who cares, they'll get messed nevertheless. I wonder if I should resign from make-up, but… I don't want to look like a dowdy bagger. It doesn't matter that maybe no one sees me. I want to look good just for myself, so I decide to paint my lashes and cover the bags under my eyes. Yeah, that's enough. The outfit is a snap for me; as I have to feel good in my own shoes, I'm going to put on my beloved jeans and one of those long-sleeved, boat-necked blouses I love, revealing my shoulders and very airy. I resign from all the gloomy colors like grey and black, choosing a red one instead. Red is a color of bravery. I want to be brave today. And I've never really worn this one before. I guess it's too flaming for everyday use. But for vacation? I can allow myself to lighten my wardrobe a bit.

Prepared like that, I come down the stairs. I listen carefully to the sounds of the house, checking if anyone but me got up already. Unfortunately, someone buzzes in the kitchen. From the clanks of pots and quiet crooning, I conclude that Mrs. Lambert is preparing a breakfast for her guests, like every exemplary hostess. I hold my breath and try to sneak past the kitchen door - I'd rather go out unnoticed, avoiding any unwanted company. However…

'Zhalia, dear!', I hear behind my back when my hand is just twenty centimeters away from the door handle.

How is that possible that Sandra Lambert nosed me out despite my efforts to stay as silent as possible? Me, a well-trained espionage specialist? Maybe that house also has its invisible barriers, like Dante's crib? Or Mrs. Lambert, a retired Seeker, still uses some of her old tricks? You can resign from a job, but the power can't be simply switched off… Or maybe it's just the maternal instinct? People tell a lot about the abilities a woman develops after the childbirth. Not only a female Seeker can sense her householders' moods, tell exactly where they are and when they will get hungry, she always has a right advice to say and a loving word to cheer someone up. That's what I've heard, but I couldn't check myself if it was true. I didn't know any mother. Even my own. As I didn't have a proof, I regarded these mystical skills as some anecdote or an exaggeration.

But now I have a feeling that there may be a grain of truth in those stories about mothers. And certainly in the belief that nothing would escape their attention in the areas adjoining to the hearth.

'What an early bird you are! I didn't expect any of you waking up so soon! Did something happen?', Mrs. Lambert asks with solicitude after she accepts my quiet greeting,

'No, why…', I mumble uneasily, staring at my feet. She doesn't really wait for the answer, though.

'How are you today?', she continues, approaching me and drying her hands in the cloth. 'You looked unwell yesterday and went to bed so early. I thought you might be sick… Do you feel any better?'

'Oh, yeah… I… I'm fine…', I respond stuttering, a bit overwhelmed by that interrogation. 'I just need some fresh air.'

'Without breakfast?!', she exclaims with horror. 'No way!', she embraces my shoulders, taking me by surprise. 'You have to eat something. You've already skipped the supper! You, young girls, are so reckless when it comes to nutrition…', she carries on, leading me forcefully to the kitchen.

'I'm 23', I murmur under my breath, stunned by that sudden flow of concern and attention, however, a bit confused as well. I want to remind Lok's mother that I'm all grown-up and can take care of myself.

'And you're so skinny!', she gasps in disbelief. 'No wonder if you're starving yourself. Come on, I made a lot of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages...'

I hold back a moan of fright when she sits me down in front of mounts of fried, oily food. A typical Irish breakfast, huh?... Am I really supposed to eat this?! That won't help me overcome my nausea for sure. I must have a terrified face as Mrs. Lambert chuckles quietly observing me.

'Cathy reacts exactly the same', she states with a motherly smile. 'Don't worry, there are also some toast and pancakes. Lok will take care of the rest for sure. Good thing to have such a gorb[1] around', she joked.

I give the smile back faintly, a bit confused. Why is she so nice towards me? We barely know each other yet she acts as if I was an old friend of the house. She brings all the plates closer to me to let me choose what to eat. It'd be rude to resign just like that, though I'm not really hungry… Under the hostess' expectant stare, I take two toasts and start to crumble them into tiny pieces.

'Like a sparrow', Mrs. Lambert comments leniently. 'Well, I hope you'll open out soon and feel at home.'

One of the crumbs sticks in my throat. I cough and quickly grasp a glass of orange juice, already standing next to my dish. At home, huh? I spent most of the time in airplanes, trains and hotel rooms. The only place which serves as a home for me was Klaus' library… but I'd rather not imagine to be there now, due to our… differences. Besides, the library isn't a good location to eat in peace – you never know when his mutated specimen steals your food right before your eyes.

Mrs. Lambert comes back to carrying on her duties, but I realize suddenly that I'm supposed to entertain her with a small talk. I panic a little; what am I going to say? My usual conversations are focused on missions, intrigues and lies. When it comes to casual chatters, I'm tongue-tied. Luckily, my wild thoughts are interrupted by the creek of stairs and a lively:

'Hello Mom, Zhalia!'

Cathy, completely dressed and woken up, enters the kitchen energetically, kissing her mother on the cheek and giving me a wide smile.

'Two skylarks! I've never beaten Mom in waking up early, but now she has a competition!', she throws, then loses interest in me as quickly as it appeared, checking if there wasn't something she could help at.

'Get ready for the classes, honey, I'll do it myself', Mrs. Lambert assures her.

'I'm not in a hurry, they start at 10 a.m.', Cathy calms her down.

'Enough time to eat a breakfast', Mrs. Lambert is inexorable.

Cathy shakes her head, but surrenders.

'Mom's all that, so stubborn', she explains, sitting at the table and scooting the toasts to herself. While smearing her bread with raspberry jam and honey, she continues: 'She thinks I'm doing everything to skip a meal, and that I'm on some stupid diet! But that's just due to her genes that I look like a weight-obsessed fifteen-years-old', she laughs, biting the first sandwich. 'She can't understand that I just want her to have a break, that silly woman!', she adds with fondness, chewing her sandwich. 'I always have everything under control. I won't miss anything. Otherwise I wouldn't decide to take up those summer courses…'

I usually can't stand such blabbering, but Cathy's is relaxing in some way. Pleasant, as it lightens the atmosphere in the already bright kitchen even more. It's not a studied play, just the way she is. What a hyperactive girl. In a good way, though. I can't stand blowzy, sensitive plants.

'…you know, those definite integrals are a total mess!', she states, stunning me.

'You're studying mathematics?', I choke out, gaping.

'Economy', she specifies. 'But there's a lot of math. I can't stand it, my favorite subject is logics, I don't know how people can't get rid of it, it's not as complicated as it's widely believed', she carries on as if she didn't notice my dumbstruck face. I didn't expect her to be such an ambitious type. I guess that not every blonde has to be an inane Barbie doll…

A loud moan breaks Cathy's enthusiastic speech.

'Mooooorning.'

Lok plods down the steps and enters the kitchen, stretching out. The boy suddenly lets out a loud yawn. His hand which was supposed to cover his gaping mouth scratches his bare belly, revealed by the raised blue pajama shirt.

'Lok, behave yourself, you're with ladies!', Mrs. Lambert hisses chidingly, watching her younger offspring crossing the kitchen like an actor in the spotlight.

He ignores her completely, almost sitting on my lap blindly, as his eyes are squinted and spliced due to sleepiness. I push him away onto the spare chair. He thanks me in a murmur and reaches out for the food. I hand the plates to him out of mercy and not to let him stain my clothes.

'What's up, stinker?', Cathy eyes him impishly. 'Tired after the trip? I thought you wouldn't get up before noon!'

'I wouldn't…', he admitted frankly, 'but I realized I'm too hungry to fall asleep again when Dante woke me up accidentally.'

I raise my head from above the plate full of crumbs, trying not to look too interested. Of course not in Lok's experiences. Luckily, he answers my unspoken question.

'He said he were going to jog or something', he adds.

Obviously, I should guess it myself. Such an organized person leads a healthy lifestyle for sure… I kinda admire it. I'm not a very dutiful person, especially when it comes to sports. I'm quite fit, but working on my condition wasn't something that I enjoyed. It's more like a necessity in order to survive, not a goal itself nor a hobby. I wouldn't sacrifice few hours of sleep just for running through the meadows… I'd rather go see them without rush, not to miss any of their hidden secrets that could pass me by in a hurry.

I'm not the only person doubtful of such activities. Some people openly voice their disagreement.

'Maaan, as if we hadn't had enough exciting exercises yesterday…', the young Lambert moans, grubbing in his eggs lethargically.

'Exciting? A tomb sightseeing?', Cathy raises her eyebrows in a surprised manner.

Mrs. Lambert makes a quick glance to her son, but he doesn't notice it due to his lids dropping. Luckily, Cathy doesn't focus too much on his meaningful remark. Something else catches her attention.

'Of course', she smirks knowingly, 'and I bet it was mostly Scarlet's merit', she teases her younger brother.

'Give it a break', he murmured , blushing a bit.

'You're as red as Zhalia's blouse', she continues. 'It's cool, by the way', she surprises me with a compliment, but quickly returns to embarrassing her sibling. 'Did something nice happen to Lokey after the breathtaking reunion with Scarlet?', she mocks him.

'Shut up!', he hisses, waking up from his apathy immediately and looking around, as if he was checking if no one heard him. It would end up with Sophie sulking the whole day, I think. 'Mind your own business! What about that goofball you were going out with?'

'That goofball has a name', she reproaches him. 'However, I broke up with Stan last month.'

'I'll smash his mouth when I see him!', Lok promises warmly, suddenly making a turnabout at a mere thought his sister might have gotten hurt by a man.

'Don't you dare!', Cathy scolds him. 'He's twice as big as you. Besides, I'm not holding a grudge against him nor anything. We just… don't go together', she shrugs, deep in her thoughts. Her eyes lose their usual merry sparks, so alike Lok's. However, she notices our stares and then laughs suddenly, waving her hand dismissively. 'But where are we, in a television drama? I don't need a group therapy! Especially being surrounded by such lookers', she adds jokingly, blinking cheerfully.

'Thanks, Sis', Lok mumbles, pleased by the sudden praise.

'I wasn't talking about you', she says patronizingly. Cherit is out of question, Lok as well, and that makes only one male left… 'Dante's quite a babe magnet, isn't he?', she remarks lightly.

I twitch and bristle hearing this, trying not to kill her at once with my stare. What did I say about her not being a blonde bimbo?! I take it back. She's just like a character from a teenage sitcom, shallow, dull and…

'Don't tell me you joined his fan club too', Lok murmurs, wincing, as discontent as me.

'Relax, I have enough of men for now', Cathy calms him down. At first it doesn't soothe my raging emotions, only arises more suspicions. Every girl who says so secretly seeks for a replacement of her ex. But… she doesn't look very interested. 'Besides, he's not really my type. But I noticed how other girls look at him.'

'Other girls?', Lok repeats anxiously. I guess that even the blind young Lambert is aware of Sophie's affection towards their mentor… 'Who do you…'

'Scarlet, of course. Who else?', she shrugs, looking at her brother strangely, as if she didn't understand his worry. Well, she probably didn't noticed his newest crush, focused on the old one. 'She's boy-crazy, everyone knows it. So silly', Cathy rolls her eyes with impatience. 'If she continues to chase after the guys so desperately, she'll rather scare them away than attract their attention.'

Alright, maybe I'm a bit ashamed that I changed my judgment about Lok's sister so quickly… Now warm feelings for Cathy are flooding me like a tsunami. I want to nod my head strongly and agree with her, but I don't manage to make an eye contact. Instead, Mrs. Lambert pierces her with her strict stare.

'Don't say such things, Cathy', she lectures her daughter. 'First, Scarlet's a friend, she keeps in touch with us after so many years! Second, she's a guest. She'd be very disappointed and sad if she came into the kitchen and heard you.'

And that's how I learnt that Scarlet spent the night under the same roof. Of course, Mrs. Lambert wouldn't let her go alone in the dark, through the heaths! Damn her hospitality. Now I know why I had nightmares. I slept few meters apart from a banshee…

Strangely, Cathy seems as surprised.

'She wasn't there already?', she asks, raising her eyebrows. 'She woke up a long time ago, before me.'

'No, she wasn't', Mrs. Lambert responds worriedly. 'Where can she be?'

'Maybe she went home already?', Lok guesses.

'Without saying goodbye? It's not like Scarlet at all', Sandra states, shaking her head.

'Yeah, and I promised to drive her back to Milltown…', Cathy wonders, then shrugs. 'I don't have a clue.'

But I do. As I think about it, I feel all the warmth and relax vanishing from my body, as if it was blown out by a gust of cold breeze. The toast breaks in my hands, covering the tablecloth in crumbs, which catches everyone's attention.

'Thank you', I murmur, pulling the plate away from me and getting up to escape their questioning stares. 'I'll go for a walk.'

'You haven't eaten much', Mrs. Lambert notices, looking at the cheerless remains of few dry toasts. 'Are you still feeling bad, honey?', she asks with concern, trying to touch my forehead and check its temperature.

I pull away slightly. Maybe I'm just a bit older than her daughter, but… no taking liberties!

'No', I respond gruffly, feeling uncomfortable. 'I'm just not hungry.'

I leave the kitchen before they manage to stop me.

'Put something on, dear, it's very windy today!', Lok's mother shouts enquiringly.

I grit my teeth. Rack off, woman, you've got your own children to boss around, but I'm not one of them! The defiance arises in me with every step. I want to pass the jacket hanging on the hook ostentatiously, but… something in me fights against the contrariness. Eventually, I pluck the jacket from the hanger and fling it onto my shoulders with anger, filled with a strange certainty that it was some of Sandra Lambert's power that made me do that.

**The same day, 8:03**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

Dante stopped at the peak of the hill, bending and leaning both hands on his knees. He tried to calm the panting. Running against the fickle wind was quite a challenge even for a sportsman like him. He felt sweat coming down his spine and chest, his damp shirt sticking to his torso and back, chilling his warmed-up body unpleasantly. It'd be better not to stay exposed to the gusts. Just a short break, then, before he comes back to the Lamberts'.

He straightened up and combed his wet hair back, sticking his face out to the sun and catching deep breaths. No matter how hard it had been to get here, given the difficult weather conditions, it was worth it. He loved the feeling of his body working exactly like he wanted, the smooth moves of his muscles stretching out and coming back to their initial state, the long leaps he made with every effort of his legs. He had always thought that running was like a substitute of flying available for every man. And thus, he had never had any Icarus-like dream of growing wings.

After all, he was happy that he could do as much as jogging for now. Yesterday it hadn't been so certain. He still remembered the discharges piercing his head and how he had feared that if they continue, he'd lose control over his limbs, and eventually, his life, completely at the Organization's merit. And even if he had escaped, what of a help would he had been for his team, disabled? Luckily he had been rescued in time, before the electricity had destroyed important nerves in his brain. He was sure everything stayed fine; the best proof was today's training. He looked at the sun, thankful that he was able to watch it again, standing on his own legs, with his mind as clear as always.

He felt a soft brush on his bare ankle; he smiled noticing a dirty-brown lizard sitting on his boot and staring at the horizon blankly. _Hi there, _he greeted the reptile noiselessly_._ Perhaps it took him for another part of the landscape due to his stillness. It looked like the Irish nature had accepted him, as it had showed him its few secrets: a red fox with greenishly-gleaming eyes lurking in a birch grove next to the sandy path; a hedgehog curled right onto the road and looking like an enormous spiky chestnut; and last but not least, a very rare Irish hare crossing a meadow and leaving him behind in few seconds - however, he had managed to notice its bluish-gray fur before it had disappeared in the distance. Quite a nice change after spending such a long time in Venice when he could have only spotted some domestic pets, rodents and birds such as doves. He was very devoted to the Queen of the Adriatic; he cherished it for its majesty, heritage and restrained, sophisticated beauty, but sensed also its inner rhythm, like an impulse coming through the veins of canals. However, he had never been a complete city slicker and sometimes missed a break away from buildings closing the space, from the limitations created by walls, from people living too close to each other and thus too interested in their neighbors' life, as if they hadn't had their own to worry about.

He decided to stay a bit longer, not wanting to disturb the lizard, his only companion to share the view. Unfortunately, his attempts had gone to waste, as his empty stomach started to rumble just then. The lizard darted into the grass; its thin tail was visible for a while, then disappeared in a tuft of yellow flowers, brightening the meadow, as if they had been sunbeams taking form of golden petals. Dante didn't expect to find such a surprise among the vast areas of the likeable but common pinkish clover. Such a pity no one was here to share his discovery. Suddenly he got reminded of Zhalia. How would she react if he brought them for her? It wouldn't hurt to check. Although he was against ruining the natural environment, well, one handful out wasn't a big deal. If it could lighten her mood, it was worth it. Of course in case she liked flowers, just like every woman did… A problem was that Dante couldn't be sure about the matters at which Zhalia would react like a statistic female. She was… original. Yeah. That was a proper word. Not disrespectful yet underlining her unusual, changeable demeanor.

He reached for the flower, but before touching its stalk, he hissed. Hidden under the leaves, Dante noticed long, sharp thorns, which scratched his skin. However, it didn't make him change his mind. He got even more convinced that it was a right choice. Zhalia was as prickly as this plant. Even a cactus wouldn't be too much for her. He smirked. He should have thought of getting one for her. Someday. But maybe when she'd be in better condition, well enough to laugh at the joke. In the state like yesterday, she'd rather throw the gift at him. Aiming at the head, of course. Or butt.

He picked the tuft, minding its natural security, and then got rid of the thorns, removing them cautiously. Fine. Now it was really time to go back, he was getting more and more hungry. He should have eaten before Lok got up, otherwise there wouldn't be much food left. And the flowers might have withered soon.

Suddenly, before he even managed to turn around and leave, something hit his back, embracing him tightly and covering his eyes. His body tensed, like every time when he sensed an ambush. He intended to frail around and shake the attacker off, however, he surrendered smelling a familiar puff of subtle perfumes and hearing a playful voice in his ear:

'Guess who?'

He sighed; when he was talking about company, he hadn't really meant such an intimate, smothering contact. He'd rather be fine with the lizard… He tried to get free in a less drastic manner, realizing that he was all beaded with sweat and a bit embarrassed by anyone else realizing that, but the person behind him squeezed him more tightly despite his sloppy state.

'No, no, no cheating, Mr. Vale!', she sang cheerfully. 'Now, as a punishment, you'll have to scoop yourself out!'

'Scarlet, please…', he murmured, moving his shoulders to shake her off, but she was grasping him in an octopus-like manner. 'No fooling around.'

She tensed, noticing he wasn't joking. She sighed finally, warming the back of his neck, and let go off him. When he turned to her, she looked at him leniently, like a caretaker at her charge. Dante wondered how Lok could have stood that when she babysat him. Well, he had probably been too young to mind such habits; at such age every older person is seen as a deity. Especially a pretty girl.

'I'm sorry', she said, though there wasn't much of remorse in her voice. 'I thought that since you're on vacation, you'll be more… loose, not such no-nonsense', she underlined with a slight reproach.

'I am', he shrugged. 'And that's why a sudden ambush shocked me. Otherwise I wouldn't let you get so close unnoticed', he warned her meaningfully.

'Of course', she smiled, tilting her head distinctively. That gesture was supposed to accentuate her feminine charm, however, she resembled a budgie more, and Dante always associated those with charming, lovely, yet naïve and silly behavior. 'Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that a girl tricked you… if you fulfill my conditions', she teased him. 'Scooping out is still on, you know.'

Dante barely stopped rolling his eyes. That Scarlet, always so perseverant, intrusive, even when it was least appreciated. He wondered what to do. His eyes laid on the flowers. He pursed his lips, dissatisfied. They were supposed to get to Zhalia… However, Scarlet wouldn't give that silly game a break unless she got what she wanted. Better deal with her on his terms than wait for her to invent some more ridiculous ones.

'Here', he reached the flowers out to her. 'Is it enough of a price?'

Scarlet's eyes widened in surprise; she gaped, taking the flowers in her hands as if they had been made of glass.

'Gorse!', she exclaimed, burying her face in them and inhaling their distinctive, coconut-like smell. 'It's my favorite! How did you know?', she raised her eyes at him above the golden petals. They clashed wildly with her fiery hair. 'We Irish have a phrase about them…', she lowered the bouquet, looking at him timidly from under a reddish curl falling onto her temple. 'It goes like: _When gorse is out of blossom, kissing's out of fashion__… _and since it's almost always in flowers…', she added in a whisper, decreasing the distance between them.

Dante wished there was a lizard on his clothes every time he needed it. Women were usually afraid of reptiles… It would make many things less embarrassing and awkward. However, he couldn't have wished for such a luck. There had to be a way out of this apart from pushing her away and explain that he didn't really reciprocate her unwanted affection… And there was. Scarlet almost fell down when she leaned over to him, intending to lay her hands on his chest, and then twitched when she heard a loud beep. Dante did his best not to sigh with relief.

Scarlet regained her balance and stared at him in puzzlement. Then she touched her jeans pocket, realizing it was her phone calling.

'I'm sorry', she mumbled, taking the bouquet in one hand and drawing the cell out with another. 'I'll just check it.'

She gave him a faint smile, though she seemed knocked for a loop. She tried to cover her embarrassment, focusing on the message.

'It's Cathy. She asks if I still want a lift back to Milltown…', she read and looked at him expectantly, as if she had wanted him to comment it somehow.

'Why not to take a chance?', he responded lightly. 'It's better than crossing the heaths alone; quite a long trip, if you ask me.'

'Oh…', her face fell at the last word. Did she expect him to stop her saying that she could spend some time with his team? Or at least propose to walk her home? Well, he should have done that, however… He didn't really want to waste the whole day on chatters with Scarlet. He had some things to take care of. She didn't have to know that the urgent case he had to work on was checking Zhalia's health and lightening her mood. Well, it was his free time, wasn't it? Since he hadn't had many breaks, he deserved a right to plan this one the way he liked.

'You shouldn't make Cathy waiting', he reminded her. 'Let's go back.'

He encouraged her and gave her way down the hill. She accepted, thanking him with an approving stare. He gave her an absent-minded smile, but didn't respond to her gaze; instead, he peeked desolately at the flowers in her hands, regretting that there was no other way to get rid of her. Good thing there were more like those nearby. And… that phrase she had quoted may have come in handy in the future, when he got a brand new bouquet for Zhalia. There was a risk she'd give him a slap for making such allusions, but… it'd be worth trying, wouldn't it?

'Dante', Scarlet started suddenly, interrupting his bold plans. 'In fact, there was something I wanted to ask you', she smiled faintly, though hope still hadn't vanished from her eyes, piercing him enquiringly.

'Yes?', he encouraged her to speak, though he wasn't really that interested. He had a hunch that would be something he wouldn't like to hear.

'I thought that maybe… you'd like to join me in my trip to Carrowkeel', she said shyly, playing with the gorse petals. She brushed her strands behind her ear, fluttering her lashes like two butterflies. Mysteriously, they lost their reddish tint; now they were pitch-black and seemed way longer than yesterday. Vale winced and looked aside, breaking the thread her stare seemed to create between them… like a spider weaving its cobweb. He would rather not let this gaze interfere with his feelings and thoughts. He had to decide on his own, and falling for a woman's clever tricks wasn't the best way to keep mind clear and unaffected… 'I told you that I'm going there to gather some info on the ancient burial grounds. And since we work together so effectively… well…'

He twitched.

'Carrowkeel?', he repeated. 'In County Sligo? Near County Meath?'

'Yes', she nodded. 'See, you've already…'

'You're not going anywhere', he shook his head. 'That trip will have to wait.'

'Excuse me?', she blinked, surprised.

'As a fully-fledged Seeker', he accentuated the phrase she liked to use so much, 'you should've known that coming back to the attack spot the day after the ambush is not the wisest choice.'

'It's approximately a hundred miles away…', she responded quietly.

'Yet we both know that the distance isn't any burden for the Organization', he said firmly. 'I think their appearance wasn't just a coincidence. We can't be sure that they're not sniffing nearby. I'm sorry.'

'That passage tomb is secured few times in a year', she protested. 'There's only a slight chance to get attacked.'

'But it still exists', Dante shook his head. He cleared his throat. He didn't really like to brass people off, especially when they spoke to him in such a polite manner, but… he couldn't imagine dragging his companions into such an uncertain place again during the few days. The last task had ended up well just because they had had a lot of luck, nothing more. 'I can't endanger my team', he shook his head, spreading his arms. 'I promised them a break. I have to keep my word.'

'Is that the only reason?', she beamed suddenly. 'They can stay at home, no problem. We won't need such a big group. Just you and I will be enough', she assured him confidently.

'No, it won't', he denied more sharply, a bit irritated by her immature opinion. 'What would we do if we get attacked by a group like the one before? I can't imagine dealing with them, given that you've just looted your first Titan', he underlined with just a drop of reproach.

Scarlet lowered her head like a scolded child.

'It's not like anything can harm me beside you', she murmured, playing with her bouquet. 'You've got everything under control yesterday, even if we were cornered. You got us out of it, so you will again… just hypothetically…'

He sighed, covering his face with his hand. He didn't care much that the gesture reveals more parts of his wet outfit. It suddenly stopped to matter.

'I'm not a Superman', he carried on quietly, a bit exhausted with explaining it over and over. 'It's true I'm quite good at spells, hand-to-hand combat and riddles, I always keep my eyes open and try to anticipate the next events, but it's not a godly power. I don't see the future, I can fail to make a right move in time. And it might not end up well for any of us.'

Scarlet observed him with her eyes still, unmoved by that honest speech.

'I'm going. Even alone', she decided stubbornly and that caught Dante off guard. He'd never witnessed Scarlet insisting on anything like that. Any other time he'd praise her determination, regarding it as a first step to finally have an authority over her life rather than follow the others. However, it wasn't the best moment to make such changes.

He heaved a sigh, pierced by her attentive green eyes.

'You're leaving me no choice', he remarked and could bet that a spark ignited behind her irises.

Due to his twisted politeness and sense of responsibility, he had gotten tricked nevertheless.

**The same day, 8:25**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

I feel relieved when I stand at the veranda, away from attentive glares, intrusive questions and annoying chatters. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths and enjoying the solitude. I guess I'm not really a sociable person. Especially when the topic of the chatters is so pissing off. Did they really expect me to have appetite while talking about Scarlet Byrne and her whereabouts?! Besides, it's too obvious to wonder about it for so long…

No, stop. Maybe it's only a coincidence. What is the chance of finding someone on those vast meadows? Very low. And who would wander across them in waste? Yeah, it'd be too stupid even for that obsessed nymphomaniac.

Convinced by my own unquestionable logic, I loosen a bit, judging that I can enjoy the day after all. I wrap myself in the black jacket tightly and expose my face to the sun, relaxing. I find a special pleasure in the overarching silence, interrupted only by tree leaves humming in the wind and birds chirping among the branches. The morning melody enfolds me like a stream of sounds; every note rings in perfect harmony with the others. Even the crunch of pebbles brushing against each other under sweeping, careful steps and a laugh vibrating in the air.

I open my eyes and immediately detect a new apparition in the landscape. Dante walks the whitish path with his chestnut-colored head raised high to the clear sky, as if he wasn't embarrassed of his current appearance: a bit lax and not very fresh after running. Uh, maybe he really doesn't have to feel ashamed… After all, despite the spillages of sweat on his chest, he looks fine, donning a pair of black shorts and a simple gray T-shirt. Did I say: fine? I meant… so damn handsome! I usually think that men in shorts are ridiculous, however, most guys I saw had spindly, stork-like pasterns or plump, hairy hams. Dante doesn't belong to any of those categories. What muscular legs this hunk has, as if there wasn't a pound of fat on them! Why is he always covered in clothes so tightly if he's such a beefcake?! I like him way more without his creepy exhibitionist-like duster which shaded quite an interesting rest.

Uh… there are people who doesn't seem to mind it, though… All my pleasant impressions vanish when I notice his company. I purse my lips tightly, seeing a lanky, red-haired silhouette. She walks beside Dante with her head leaned to him in a girlish gesture and her fingers playing with petals of some yellowish weeds. Sorry, girl, but you don't look cute nor ethereal with them, just ridiculous. She resembles some anime character; her eyes may not be as large, but they squint into two lines while giggling. She'd scare all the birds with that squeal of hers. No wonder they got so silent, seeing such a competition. However, Dante seems to handle such high notes, as he's not wincing in disgust, just listening to her carefully, with his brow furrowed. He always looks focused around Miss Byrne; almost as if she was another riddle he'd like to solve, occupying his whole attention, leaving nothing for… for anyone else…

I should probably leave before they notice me… Oh, no worry. Despite my fiery blouse, I feel invisible. They are so lost in the talk that don't even realize I'm watching them. I guess they wouldn't like to be spotted... otherwise they wouldn't seek excuses for going outside. How romantic… my teeth will got rotten from the sweetness if I stay here any longer.

'Zhalia!'

I stop and look above my shoulder, gritting my teeth. All of the sudden, Dante took his eyes off Scarlet and laid them on me. His hand shades his face, then jerks up a bit in a greeting manner. Man, your armpit is wet… it's not really a view I'd like to see. I guess Scarlet thinks the same of me. She wrinkles her nose when Dante's not watching, as if someone put a dung before her. Believe me, gingy, you're not my favorite person either. I've seen transvestites looking prettier than you. However, it's too late to pretend that I don't see them both. I make a gesture that could be taken for a wave, then cross my arms on my chest, waiting for them.

'Zhalia!', Dante repeats lively, going ahead of Scarlet, crossing the stairs in two jumps and standing next to me. 'You awake already?'

Why's he smiling like that? Did something nice happen to him this morning? I wonder if he opened some… treasure chest during the walk. You know, if they planned something spicy, they probably did it even on the grass. Hope the straws stuck into the ginger's ass!

'As you see', I murmur unfriendly, not looking at him and convincing myself that it's due to him being so messy after his morning activities. 'You two didn't laze neither…', I remark bitingly.

'I went jogging', he excuses himself. 'It'd be a pity not to take a chance to explore such a neighborhood… You know, those impressive moorlands…', he raves over the view, looking at the surrounding green fields.

'… and playful nymphs hidden behind every tree…', I mock him, staring at his companion meaningfully.

'I met Scarlet halfway', he explains quietly, in a confidential voice, not catching my sarcasm. However, the fact that he associates her with nymphs is a bad sign… 'She bumped into me. Perhaps accidentally.'

'Oh, just from your point of view', I ironize, piercing Byrne with my stare. She approaches us, trying to catch up with Dante, which isn't so hard with such stilt-like legs. She's beside him in two seconds. 'How was the walk?', I ask her with a fake politeness. 'I didn't know you wanted to lose weight so much that you took up CHASING after Dante through the meadows. It must be hard, given his athletic condition.'

She waves her lashes innocently, but I know she is aware of my noiseless warning signals. She isn't as guileless as she wants to look.

'Unlike the others, I don't have to worry about my silhouette', she says leniently, looking me up and down. No point, girl. My weight isn't my weak spot. Especially after hearing from Mrs. Lambert that I'm skinny. 'And what do you mean by: chasing?', she repeats surprisingly, pretending not to understand my allusions. 'Dante wasn't running away. He seemed as if he had waited for me!', she responds, giving Vale a warm stare.

'I bet he did', I snarl scornfully, examining my nails to show them that I don't really care. 'He's always there when it comes to rescuing damsels in distress, lost in the world. What was your problem, then? No, don't tell me!', I interrupt her before she manages to answer, just to double the impression of my mockery. 'I'll guess it myself: a broken nail? A jug to open? Or, just can't say it out loud!, a spider on your bedroom wall? ', I carry on just as charmingly, blinking more often than necessary to mimic her habit. In passing, I notice that she used a new mascara, lengthening her short lashes and thus making her slit-like peepers look larger. Woh-hoh, eyes aren't your only problem, chick, and most of them can't be dealt with by using cosmetics. You'd have to wear a paper bag to hide that ugly mug of yours. I'll buy one for you myself. With pleasure.

I beam within when, though I saved most of my thoughts for myself, just the voiced half of this speech leaves her stunned. She can't even explode not to show Dante what a bad-tempered bitch she is. She manages to find another way to express her emotions, though, too exaggerated to be believable - she fakes a cheerful laugh, tilting her head back lightly.

'What amazing friends you have, Dante!', she addresses him instead of me, as if I was too weak-minded to understand her. 'Such a sense of humor! No, dear Zhalia', she says with her sweet hyper-friendly voice, covering her real feelings towards me, though I almost feel steam coming out her ears. 'I wanted to ask Dante for help as a professional Seeker, experienced in dealing with ancient secrets and mysterious clues', she informs me, peeking at Vale to check if he had heard it well. Yuk! What an obvious grease! 'I need some info on Carrowkeel in County Sligo for my thesis', Scarlet continues. 'However, it's not wise to visit such places alone. I thought about convoking a team earlier, and since you arrived… well, it makes many things easier for me', she shows her teeth in a wide grin and suddenly I recall _The Jaws_ movies. 'Dante also admitted that searching for another group would be pointless.'

I shift my piercing stare at the mentioned criminal. Vale clears his throat in embarrassment. Or maybe it's only my imagination…

'Actually… I haven't agreed yet', he underlines. 'I wanted to ask the rest of you first. I cannot decide for the whole team… and…'

'Of course you can't! But sometimes asking is unnecessary, isn't it?', she chirps, taking advantage on his hesitation. 'Just take a look at Zhalia.'

'What do you mean?!', I bark at her, as if she stung me with a needle.

'Oh, dear', she drawls it so the caressing word sounds almost as if she offended me, 'haven't you looked in the mirror today? If I were you, I'd go back to bed', Scarlet interrupts with a slight venom, finally laying her meanly sparking eyes on me.

'_With Dante, I assume'_, my mind reacts faster than me, I barely manage to bite my tongue before the words come out. I should throw them right at her face, however… it'd only convince her that I was moved by her remark. As hell I am! But I won't give her satisfaction and show that! Uh, or maybe… it's already visible… I guess my eyes look like burning torches and my wild hair raise above my head like Medusa's snake strands. I fix the ruffled shag desperately. Why Scarlet's locks always look so stylish?! Are they plastic or what?!

Fighting with the unruly bush on my head, I wait for Dante's support; I expect him to defend me and reproach Scarlet for going too far with her remarks, however…

'Here you are!', the door open suddenly. 'I thought you won't arrive! I was about to go alone!'

Cathy comes into our circle and puts both hands on her hips, piercing Scarlet with her cat-like eyes. Byrne doesn't mind, though.

'I'm sorry', she says dismissively, ignoring her appearance, with her eyes still plastered to Dante. 'I'll just thank Mr. Lambert for having me.'

'Just make it quick', Cathy rolls her eyes impatiently, clattering the car keys against her thigh. 'I don't want to be late for Mr. Collins' lecture.'

Scarlet nods, then passes us and intends to come inside, though she stops at the doorstep and turns to Dante.

'I guess I have to thank you as well', she says softly, stroking his chest with her fingers confidently. Then she stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. 'That's for the flowers. See you soon.'

Blood rushes to my head when I realize that this wisp of straw is a gift from Dante! How come?! Such a rag from a man like him?! Kheh, I shouldn't expect anything more from a guy who wears shitty clothes. Suits him well! However, that thought instead of bringing relief, casts a bitter shade on my mind. It makes me sick, disdainful and… angry? Am I angry? But why? 'Cause Dante inundates Scarlet with flowers? I expected so. I knew right from the start, when Dante first laid his eyes on her, that he has a soft spot for her. So why… why does it make me so furious and disappointed?...

I bite my lip so hard that I feel my tooth piercing the skin. I dig my nails into my palms when the door cracks and shuts. The following silence gets heavier every moment. Finally Dante heaves a sigh, brushing his sweaty hair back.

'I'll go take a shower', he informs us. 'Then we'll come back to the topic. Excuse me for a moment.'

He couldn't make a worse move than leaving me in such a rage without even trying to soothe my anger, just ignoring me as if I was a garden dwarf, a part of the landscape who became a witness of his caresses with Scarlet accidentally and didn't have a right be surprised, because it should be obvious…

'Guys', Cathy shakes her head, tilting back against the banister to see the cloudy sky. 'They are hopeless.'

I've almost forgotten about her presence, lost in my raging emotions.

'Tell me about it', I murmur bitterly. You don't even have a clue how hopeless they are. Your worst experience with a man is watching him burping or walking around in sloppy boxers. Maybe a poor first time with some awkward male virgin, as green as you. But don't try to convince me that you know men's darkest sides. I could write a thesis about that.

'Don't take it personally', she continues. 'Scarlet always affects men like that…'

Oh. I feel my heart sliding somewhere to my abdomen. So, Dante's fascination is not only my hallucination. Everyone sees it. I bite my lower lip, then manage to shake my head proudly. I snarl coldly, convincing myself that I'm just stung by Cathy's straightforward tone. I'm not used to be treated like that. You know, like, she was not afraid of me and my cutting responses and spoke her opinions openly. Guess she really knows me too little…

'And who said I care?', I drawl, jerking my head up so violently that half of my hair falls into my eyes.

Cathy blinks two times before she pierces me with her attentive, cerulean glare. Like an X-ray. I bristle, feeling uneasy under her examination, and try to cover it by brushing back my ruffled strands. She keeps observing me, though.

'I know Scarlet way longer than you', she says eventually, 'and I'm well-aware how irritating she can be. She chases everything with a drop of testosterone. But I guess… that the guys can't be blamed. They have to be treated more leniently… after all, they're like, a different race', she shrugs. 'We have to ignore their blunders and simply do our stuff…'

'I don't need a psychotherapy', I growl, accentuating my words the way that they sound almost like: 'It's not your business, so screw off'.

Cathy raises her brows in surprise, her face puzzled.

'Alright', she shrugs and straightens up, combing her hair with her fingers, though they don't really need to be fixed. 'I'll better hurry Scarlet up.'

She throws me a disappointed, guilty stare and leaves. I sigh. Guess I overdid it. She's not to blame, after all. She just tried to comfort me and find an ally against Scarlet in me… But hell, what gives if the next moment, she just goes to Byrne, acts as if nothing happened and gladly proposes her a ride back home? She's too soft when it comes to dealing with unwanted favors. I'm not going to hide my antipathy. Towards anyone. Even if I'd deserve a patch of 'hasty' again.

**The same day, 8:33**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

One of the best places to think in peace was the shower cabin. It wasn't easy to access in the house full of guests… mostly women, but Dante managed to sneak to the bathroom before Sophie, just woken up and tousled, occupied it to pull herself together. He wouldn't stand another half of an hour spent in the clothes sticking to his sweaty body – and it was an optimistic version, if the girl wouldn't be styling her long hair. He felt a lot better when he locked the door, tore off the dirty clothes and had some time in peace, separated from the others, enjoying the solitude. However, the room couldn't isolate him from the sounds from the kitchen. A cheerful, excited chirp was still reaching his ears. He turned on the water to drown that sound, then came under the cold stream head on. Unfortunately, it didn't help much.

That Scarlet! What was going on with her? She acted weird, even more disturbing than back then in Venice. Dante thought she had overcome her exaggerated fantasies, however, she imagined too much and just repeated the whole scenario. And he had fallen for her sweet poses again, like a total fool, though he had only wanted to be well-mannered. Now he was paying for it a double price. She had to realize that he wasn't attracted to her and come to terms with that, but he couldn't just be straightforward and tell her to leave him alone. He hoped she would understand his discouraging behavior and give up on her fantasy. It disturbed him that he had to be so tepid towards her, but there was no other choice not to hurt her too badly. Yeah. No raising her spirits by overly familiar gestures, but keeping the cultured attitude would be just fine.

However, there was a matter he couldn't ignore. The Carrowkeel trip. Since no one had announced it as an official Foundation mission, he wasn't bound to accept the offer. He didn't feel really eager to go, just out of crookedness, to show Scarlet that his agreement wasn't as obvious as she thought, but… Letting her go there alone just didn't seem right. A rather fragile woman with no significant powers and only one Titan alone in the forlorn region… It just couldn't end up well, given that the Organization might have still wandered around.

_And you call that not rising her hopes, Vale?, _he asked himself, putting his hands on the screw.

He sighed, turning the water off. _I guess they call it a savoir-vivre pathology, _he responded, brushing the strands back and reaching for the towel_._

He came out from the shower cabin, trying not to wet the floor with water dripping from his body and hair. He started to dry them energetically; the droplets landed on the spick-and-spanned mirror. Dante quickly wiped the water off it, not wanting to ruin Mr. Lambert's effort to keep the household neat. He froze with his hand on the glass; his reflection blinked to him with surprise. What was with those girls? Why did they fancy him so much? The guy he saw there couldn't be regarded as a stunner. His face didn't scare, but wasn't outstanding comparing to other men as well… Eyes of the simplest, common brown color, hair more reddish than dark, a normal, medium-sized nose, no special features. He had even grown a beard, damn it! A beard! He thought women didn't like beards. Still, they didn't stop to show him their affection.

What happened recently that it turned out this way? It wasn't like that before, when he was just a mere high school student or a young novice detective, and he hadn't changed much since then. Or maybe he had? He smiled to his reflection, recalling the times when there hadn't been an adult man staring at him, but a boy with a smooth face, a ragged fringe, a hesitant, mild smile and round eyes, sheepish, self-conscious, unsure. Oh well, he had changed. He had developed quite a fit body - so what? Most guys got rid of themselves recently and started to fight against growing bellies. For him, it was just a necessity, a side effect of being a Seeker – without his physical effectiveness, he would have been killed a long time ago, either by an enemy or by his own clumsiness. His hair had grown longer, his forehead had got stained by a shallow crease, small, faint wrinkles had appeared around his lids, due to laughing. After all, there had been times when he had laughed a lot, even if they had stopped last times. However, his face still stayed bright. And there wasn't a sign of doubt in his eyes, at least now. They were clear, calm and confident, with an intriguing gleam reflecting deeply behind the irises. The glow hadn't been there several years ago, but someday it had just lit – and hadn't burned out since then. It had stayed with him through all this time, changeless, indicating that no matter what had been going on with his organism, undergoing puberty and stabilization as a grown-up man, the most important twist hadn't occurred in his body, but in his mind.

He scratched his chin with content. Strange thing women had started to notice the attributes he had always had in him, and now fancied him for things which had been seen as wimpy in his teenage years. He guessed that fame reversed people's value system. It was some kind of a trend, a fetish – chasing a well-known idol, a celebrity, a dream every teenager had. Shame most women hadn't grown out of it. If they only knew what a boring guy he was! No exciting adventures, no wild ideas, no fireworks casually. Out of missions, his life was plain, simple and safe. But he thanked for every peaceful minute and didn't await any additional attractions. He had just one yearning.

Alright, maybe two. The second one – quite fresh. Namely, he wished to see his popularity playing at his hands. However, instead of impressing a crowd of admirers, he would like to see one particular person looking at him more propitiously, kindly, without that everlasting shade of scorn and disdain.

He guessed that the first important step to achieve that was putting on some clean clothes, just to match her well-groomed attitude. However, he wasn't a buck to rave over it for too long. He just pulled on his casual black sweater and grayish-blue, loose jeans. At least they were fresh, right? That should matter the most. He left the duster on the hook. It was more of a… knock-about outfit, even if he really felt fond of it. However, he could put his duties on the leisure for some time.

When he came back onto the veranda, Zhalia was still there, standing in the same position as twenty minutes earlier, as if the time had stopped. He felt his heart skipping a beat; a strange thing to do for a healthy, well-functioning organ, but it didn't surprise him. He had the same impression before, when he was walking up the hill to the Lamberts' and just noticed a small figure leaning over the railing. Maybe he'd have given her a skip if not her poppy-colored blouse, flashing like a red light urging him to stop and stare in approval and amazement. Good thing she had caught his eye. It scared away the weight of his promise for Scarlet for a while.

Well, of course it wasn't like a lightning from the sky which made him paralyzed due to the sudden realization of Zhalia's good looks. He traveled with her for long enough to notice her multiple assets. However, he still liked to take advantage on every moment she couldn't see him staring and admiring her appearance. At the moments like that, her prettiness gained a new suitable setting. She looked like a model on a picture, though no one prepared her nor the decorations for the photo session. Her long layered hair flew in the wind. Their dark bluish tint contrasted intriguingly with her fiery outfit, weaving on her shoulders and creating a honeycombed pattern on her olive skin, partially revealed by the boat cleavage. Though she put on a black jacket, it couldn't cover what a narrow waistline she had, comparing to her smooth, nubile hips. On the contrary, it got exposed even more due to the belt hanging loosely on her sides. For a moment, he just stared at the nice line her curves created, but quickly got a grip on himself.

'Sorry it took me a while', he said.

She didn't react. No word, no stare, nothing. Like a statue. Then, she embraced herself with her hands, wrapping her arms in the light clothing. Damn, he should have taken the cloak. At least he could have covered her. She really shouldn't put her health to the test, given her yesterday weakness.

'Aren't you cold? You could go inside', he said solicitously.

She trembled again, rumpling the sleeves violently. She was staying silent, staring stubbornly at the horizon. There was no doubt she had heard him, however, she acted as if he wasn't here or had gotten invisible.

'Zhalia?', he tried to catch her attention, but it failed. 'What's the matter?', he asked, not understanding her demeanor.

All of the sudden, she turned around as if stung by a needle, revealing her blazing eyes and contorted face. He realized that she wasn't shivering due to chilliness, but anger, clearly visible behind her irises.

'Can't you think it up yourself?!', she burst suddenly, placing her clenched hands on her hips.

She filled her lips in a way that mostly looked like a warning. And somehow, though that gesture should have alarmed him rather than fascinated, Dante thought that they got a nice line and shape. More sophisticated than the newest maseratti. Out of the blue, he recalled the way she had licked the cappuccino foam from the upper one back then in Vienna. And how much he had urged to help her clean her lips. To touch them. To feel their mellowness, accentuated by her transparent lip gloss. He still did. More badly than before. What a surprising feeling… after the whole time he had tried to remind himself that it was not wise to fancy his teammates. However, he had never had such a sexy one before. It was harder to resist the temptation…

He must've had a dumb face as Zhalia winced even more, enraged by his silence and muddle-headiness.

'The Ireland trip was supposed to be a vacation!', she threw accusingly. 'That's the matter!'

Her outburst shocked Dante so much that he shook off his strange desires. So, that was her only objection?

'You know, since it's not an official Foundation mission, you can always decide to stay', he said calmly, opposing her boiling emotions with his usual coolness. 'No one would blame you. You could take your time, rest a bit, wait till you get better. I could go there alone, and let the three of you relax...', he continued, looking in her eyes and seeking approval.

She gaped, losing half of her ferocity, apparently confused by that offer. It make her tense expression loose a bit, smoothing her face and giving her a feminine gentleness, quite shocking in that usually tepid, stony outlook. He smiled convincingly, taking advantage on that moment of breaking. She noticed that and didn't like it; she quickly closed her mouth and instead raised her eyebrows in a chilly manner to keep her attitude.

'Oh', she exclaimed coldly, pressing her arms to her breasts tighter. 'Are we really that needless?'

'This is not what I said…', Dante defended himself, his smile wiped away at instance. He spoke the truth. The first thing he thought about after Scarlet's proposition was that engaging his team wasn't the best idea. Zhalia shouldn't overwork herself, given her yesterday attitude, and he wouldn't need the kids to worry about if something happened. He didn't have any hidden reasons and it should have been stated out loud. 'I just said that…'

'…that you want to be alone with Scarlet?', she smirked meanly. 'Yeah, you did. Not directly… but don't take me for a fool, Vale', she came back to referring to him by his surname as abruptly as she flicked a strand off her face. 'I can read between the lines and understand when I'm a gatecrasher.'

'Don't contort my every word', he asked her in a collected way, furrowing his brow. 'I just don't want you to get involved because of my own duties. However', he started suddenly, finding it the only way to soothe Zhalia's emotions, 'if you're against it, I'll take it back', Dante said, drawling the words cautiously.

'And who are you, a man or a mouse?', she snarled, shooting him with her glare. 'Waiting for a woman to be more confident and decisive than you are? Really, cut this shit.'

She let go off the barrier and straightened up, fixing her slipping sleeve and proudly jerking her head. She passed him by and was about to go inside the house when Dante reached his hand to put on her shoulder and stop her. However, he resigned with his arm frozen halfway when a sarcastic chuckle escaped her mouth.

'I just can't understand…', she started, staring at her slender fingers leaning on the doorknob, 'why don't you have balls at all and can't admit that you WANT to go.'

'I'm not', Dante protested, spreading his arms to justify his stupid gesture, 'but Scarlet forced it out of me…'

'Obviously!', she guffawed sardonically. 'But I guess her methods weren't so unpleasant if you didn't refuse more strictly and even gave her flowers…', she hissed mockingly, like a furious cobra.

His eyes widened when the truth hit him like a lightning. Of course, how could he haven't caught it earlier? He laughed with relief, glad that he finally understood the whole mess.

'It's not what you think', he responded quickly. 'Zhalia, those flowers…'

He cut, the chuckle withering on his lips when he felt her hand grasping the collar of his sweater and pulling him violently.

'I. DON'T. GIVE. A. DAMN', she drawled, diminishing the space between them. 'Just stop playing those games, stop sending me messages, stop complimenting me and messing with my head while the next day you're giving flowers to another girl… Make sure you keep your lovey-dovey stuff away from me, understood?!', she barked at him.

He didn't manage to catch her hand in time and hold onto its place, squeeze it tight, keep her here and explain slowly yet convincingly despite her obvious struggles. She let go of him and turned on her heel, dashing through the door, leaving Dante stunned and puzzled. Before he caught up with her, he heard her slamming the bedroom door and separating from him completely.

He cursed under his breath. He had screwed it absolutely.

**The same day, 8:12**

**The Lamberts' house**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

I come up the stairs and rush into my room so fast that I wonder why the door don't fall off the jamb due to the gust created by my entrance. Road Runner should learn from me, damn it! I throw myself onto the creased bedding, dig my nails into the pillow like a panther burying itself in the fresh meat and hide my mouth in the rutted quilt to drown the yells of fury and aggression that want to escape my throat. I clench my hands into fists and bang them against the mattress, wishing it was someone I'd really love to punch instead…

What a sudden twist that he wants to keep me in bed! I shouldn't have been surprised by that, as I had a strange feeling that there's a reason lying behind it. He wasn't going to keep me company and… uh, act as my blanket. Of course, I wasn't mistaken! He just wanted to push me and the rest of the team off the screen to go on a lovely one-to-one trip with his lover! Iseult of Quick Hands, I assume, if she was skilled enough to make such an impression on a crystal knight like Vale!

I grit my teeth when a knocking sounds. Bang as long as you want, it's the thing you seem to enjoy, especially towards objects flat like a plank. I had bigger breasts than Scarlet when I was twelve… Strange thing men really find her appealing. Or maybe it's just like Cathy said? Maybe it's her who chases them so pushily and them, unable to overpower their physiology, just surrender to her? I smile faintly, down to thinking. There was a grain of truth in that comment… What do I expect from poor Mars alien creatures who have brains in their pants? To hold back their primitive instincts? That's not a soap opera nor an epic romance. Dante's not a chivalrous knight, even if he would want to be see like one. No wonder he's not interested in my wooing if he's finding indulgence somewhere else. Sorry, I don't believe in his fairytales about helping a woman in need. The only need he's gonna help her fulfill is satisfying Scarlet's itching pussy. The best proof is that he follows her like a dog chasing a bitch in the rutting season and waits for her to tap his head like a good puppy.

He gets more pushy and taps his fists against the wood more violently. So, stings of remorse, Mr. Vale? Thinking I ended my life just because you fancy another girl? Dream on, bastard.

I don't want to see him now, never ever, but… this sound is irritating like hell! I guess there's no other way to stop it that dash to the door, open it violently and laugh off his stupidity. That way I'd finally relieve myself. So, I do as I planned and throw the door open before his stunned face and his raised hand.

And the only realization I make is that I don't want to laugh at all. I can't. Not looking right at Dante. I hate him. I hate every part of him. I'm disgusted by him from his trainers to the sticking-out strand on the back of his head, repulsed by his brows raised in surprise, detesting the way he looks at me, as if it was me who did something improper towards him…

Me! It's not me who two-times, damn it! (Oh well, at least not literally.)

…but if you think I'd let you cuddle with her alone…

…you can whistle for it, Vale.

'I'm going', I bark at his surprised expression. 'Just don't paw each other in my presence.'

Dante heaves a sigh, shakes his head and places his raised hand on his temple, like a facepalm.

'Zhalia, it's not like that…', he then reaches it out to me, open, as if he wanted to show me that he's not hiding anything.

'Shut up', I interrupt him, growling, 'or I will push you down the stairs and film you rolling down like a ball of shit. Interested?', I ask, and seeing his dumbstruck expression, I answer myself: 'Just as I thought.'

Then, I slam the door again, wishing they'd fall off the jamb and hit him right in the face. That's the next thing I'd like to record in a movie or on a photo. Yeah, a picture to update his Foundation profile. Would he look good with as Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer?

I chuckle to myself. Yeah, I should really try to hack the database again. At least I'll knock Mr. Vale off his pedestal. And give the rest of the staff a good reason to laugh, even if I'm not the one to share their amusement.

**The same day, 9:45**

**Milltown**

**County Kerry**

**Ireland**

Clearing off the house went way easier that I expected. We had to acquaint Mrs. Lambert with the situation, which helped us to deal with the rest of the unwanted company. Learning about the real reasons of our sudden departure, she agreed that taking Lok and Sophie would be inconvenient. She also tried to convince us to stay as well for some time, however, seeing Scarlet's exceptional perseverance, she admitted that keeping her company would be a good option. She promised to deal with Lok and Sophie's yapping by telling them that we just went to report to the Huntik compound managers in Ireland about our last encounter with the Organization. This should sound dull enough to keep the kids away. We weren't obliged to do it ourselves as at the time of our leaving, Lok was taking the next nap to make up for the sleep he lost because of Dante's early wake and Sophie had just locked herself in the bathroom to take care of her sophisticated looks. Thanks to that, we sneaked out unnoticed, followed by the worried Mrs. Lambert's advices and prescriptions to take care of ourselves, and, for Cathy, to give us a safe lift. Yeah – she offered to drive us to the Milltown station, without pointing out how much the gasoline costs. Those Lamberts are really from a different world.

If I was in a better mood, during the drive, I'd probably focus on my surprise what a pain in the ass we caused for Cathy. I don't say it only out of concern – you know I'm not that kind of person, and showing the others my favors is not my kind of thing. I just think she fell a victim of her own generosity. She seems to be a person who enjoyed chatters and telling anecdotes, however, she took on a very taciturn and moody group of passengers. At first she tried to entertain us vividly with tales from college and summer courses. Unfortunately, no one even pretended to be interested. Scarlet looked out the window or into the rear mirror to see Dante, regretting that she wasn't sitting next to him. It was me who got honored by that dubious pleasure – and I'm not very happy with that, as I have to act as if I didn't notice his guilty stares, thrown at me by his German shepherd-like eyes. However, I'm quite skilled at it, so it's no big deal. It'd be worse to tame myself next to Scarlet, I guess. Since Cathy had turned the radio on to drown the awkward silence, Byrne keeps crooning a simple melody, drilling into my eardrums; much to my annoyance, the yellow wisp still stings my eyes, lying on her lap and stroked by her pale fingers as if it was her favorite cat's fur. If I were Cathy, long time ago, I'd throw Scarlet out of my car right among the most uninhabited area of the meadows. And stuff the flowers down her throat. Cows have to eat a lot of greenstuff. But I guess she's too nice to do so anyway.

Good thing there were more things to occupy my stare once we entered Milltown. Quite a pleasant place, even if too quiet and plain for me, a city dweller to the bone. You know, it's a town looking best on the idyllic photos for local newspapers, but hard to live in if you want to make a career. No offence, just saying.

Ouch! I hiss hitting my head against the headrest of Cathy's seat. What's up, dear fate? I got punished anyway for just thinking nasty things!? Is that fair?!

'Sorry', Cathy smiles to me apologetically. 'That's why I failed my first driving exam.'

No wonder, I wince touching a bump on my head.

'Well, here we are', Cathy nods at the train station visible behind the window. 'I guess Scarlet will manage to guide you from here.'

'Of course I will', Byrne shows her stunning teeth in a wide grin. 'Thanks, Cathy. Come on', she says to us, unstraping herself. 'Let's not waste our time.'

Yeah, right. What else am I doing since morning? I trot outside the car to get my backpack from the trunk. Strangely, when I lift it, it feels heavier than before. I check if there's something additional inside and notice a lot of packages wrapped in a silver foil. I raise my brows in a questioning manner.

'Mom couldn't resist and prepared you some sandwiches', Cathy explains. 'Just in case you get hungry.'

I nod, biting my lower lip. The weight of my luggage is not my concern. Here comes the part I really detest; maybe that's why I feel like Atlas overwhelmed by the weight of the world.

Cathy sighs the same time I do. I throw her a surprised stare and see her exchanging it.

'Good luck, Zhalia', she whispers. 'You'll really need it.'

I'm too surprised by a sudden reciprocation of my impressions that I don't give her half-smile back. She gets discouraged by my lack of reaction and with a short, embarrassed 'Bye', she comes back to the old ford. I observe the car starting and creating clouds of dust as she leaves. Was I a victim of a lesbian hitting-on? Given Cathy's recent break-up, it seems way more believable than me having something in common with another girl for the first time in my life.

I've always been surrounded by men; I mean those people who really mattered, not an orphanage manager or some female Suits I met few times during the Organization trainings. I guess that it was mostly my merit that I didn't have a good contact with any of them, despite sharing the same fate. I've never been interested in them. They always seemed weak and stupid to me, like dense tools. They didn't have any style, class and attitude I respected and admired so much. I've never wanted to be one of them, a brainless puppet who lets the other pull her strings. I repulsed them due to a mask put on to hide my real origins: of a stuck-up brat who felt more worthy than anyone else. Maybe sometimes I really did, knowing that they were only mere cannon fodders while I was someone special; a favored pupil of Klaus, a prodigy undergoing a special training, destined to fulfill extraordinary, spectacular task. I was really attracted to the male world. I desired the power they held. I wanted to resemble them, to imitate their behavior. To be strong, perceptive, unmoved by emotions. I didn't understand why Klaus, despite being proud of my determined attitude, insisted on me not to neglect the feminine part completely. If I only knew where those preparations would lead to… If I only had a slightest clue that regardless of my views on the bright future, I'd go through the fate I despised so much… That it'd get sealed during the night in the hotel room…

After that, I stopped admiring men. I saw their darkest side. I found them disgusting, lecherous, mobilized by their physiological needs, weak-minded and big-headed. There's nothing else in this world I detest so much. But sometimes… just for few moments in a while… I wish to be one of them. The one who takes, not the one who gives. That's why I'm still here. To show men they can't manage without me. Imagine the top male operatives in my shoes! Them dealing with Dante the way I do! Ridiculous! Only I have the power to bring him to his knees. And that's why, in some way, I'm even more powerful than the Professor.

'Zhalia, you coming?', Scarlet asks me with a slight reproach when the car vanishes in the distance.

I snarl, bristling like a furious cat. I turn on my heel, suddenly filled by a perverse, twisted energy and satisfaction. What a shame that before I take my rightful position, I have to act as the carrot's minion! I swear it will change.

Soon. Very soon.

**The same day, 15:11**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

The weather had changed. The sky had cleared and wind had died away, letting the beams force its way. However, Dante didn't think it was a good sign. The sun was giving people a real roasting. The air, sticky, blistering, made it hard to breathe. It felt like inhaling a boiling tar, filling the lungs and loading them with heavy grease. He felt his clothes gluing to his body again and restraining his moves like a cocoon of wet, sweaty fabric. Soon, he had just throw off his sweater, but the T-shirt seemed like too much nevertheless. However, the heat wasn't his major problem.

He just felt troubles under his skin.

He couldn't describe that feeling. It was like an itch coming through his veins; like an impulse shooting through his brain and forcing it to be in overdrive, to record every single suspicious detail. He'd be glad if there would be one justify his discomfort, however, he couldn't find nothing particular. The whole place seemed… strange. Of course, he knew that burial grounds hadn't been supposed to bring pleasant impressions, but he wasn't really a superstitious person who got wired by stories about ghosts and mysteries of the dark death rituals. He just couldn't hold back a feeling that the place was too calm. Too still. Even the grass stopped moving, there was no sign of any living creature and every single step sounded like an avalanche in the overwhelming silence.

He couldn't understand how the girls stayed oblivious to this. What's with that famous women's intuition? He guessed it got befuddled by other stimulants. Scarlet seemed lost in her own thoughts, looking around in awe and humming the continuation of the last song they had heard in Cathy's car, and Zhalia, like always, was too busy expressing her discontent by making a grimace and throwing irritated glares left and right. Did she really had so much strength to waste? Well, changing her fierce blouse for the usual, subdued one, suitable for incognito missions, didn't chasten her temper at all. And she had wondered why he didn't want to take her! He knew she wouldn't like it and wanted to save her the suffering by Scarlet's side. And any other inconvenient events that might have shaded that problem…

Until then, everything had been going smooth, though. Each of them had a map printed from the Foundation database, in case one of them got lost, but only Scarlet didn't really need it. For Dante, the pillars and megaliths couldn't be distinguished from each other; however, Byrne passed by the cairns and didn't mistake the way despite their similarity, looking for the particular one with proficiency. It was obvious she was used to such trips; no wonder if she studied ethnology.

'What are we exactly looking for?', Zhalia broke the silence, a bit annoyed by weaving their way among the ancient monuments without any logical reason.

'I wish we could find the Heapstown Cairn', Scarlet responded. 'This was the site of the battles between the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient gods of Ireland, and the demonic Fomorians. I've read a 16th century manuscript describing it…'

'Oh yeah', Zhalia snarled. 'You've READ about it. It makes me feel way more confident.'

'I will know it is the right place once I see it', she assured them. 'Don't worry.'

Dante nodded, giving her an encouraging stare. It was not the best moment to scold her that she had dragged them into all of this and was supposed not to put their patience to the test. Good thing Dante had learned to wait. Otherwise he wouldn't have survived by the newbies' side.

He looked at the horizon and squinted his eyes a bit when a flash of light hit his eyes; the sunbeams had gotten reflected in the quartz speckles, which spotted the stones of Bricklieve Mountains, visible in the distance. From here, they looked as if they were covered in glittery sequins. No wonder their name meant 'The Speckled Mountains' in Irish.

'Here it is!', Scarlet shouted. 'I recognize it!'

Her face beamed with pride and joy as she pointed forward, showing them the stony rise in the green hollow. She hurried down the hill, heading to the rocky entrance of the tomb and almost tripping when her feet started to stuck in the mushy moss.

'Careful!', Dante shouted, coming down way more slowly and cautiously, seeing the bumps on the ground; sliding down one of them would end up with a limb in a plaster cast. He turned to Zhalia and reached his hand out to her to help her. She raised one brow.

'Better take care of your girlfriend', she commented chillily. 'You will be the one to carry her if she breaks her leg.'

'Scarlet's not my…', he rolled his eyes, but Zhalia ignored him and jumped gracefully onto the grass few meters lower. Maybe it was Featherdrop's merit, but she landed like a cat, with unusual efficiency, accentuating the appealing smoothness of her body lines. He shook his head and followed both of the girls, using Hyperstride to catch up with excited Scarlet.

She was already brushing her fingers across the stones surrounding the cave with amazement, examining the markings with fascination. She was about to go inside, but Dante caught her by the shoulder.

'Wait', he ordered her, reaching out the golden-green amulet. 'Better check the area first. Solwing!', he called.

The falcon's emerald energy looked as if It got materialized from the clover growing densely in the region. He made a full circle above Dante's head, enjoying the flight. He didn't mind the mustiness, as Titans were unaffected by human stimulus. Vale let him play in the air for a moment, then he calmed him and asked to check the cave. The bird was reluctant, as the open fields appealed to him way more than the tomb, but his owner's feelings, transmitted through the Rapport-bond, chastened his own enthusiasm a bit. He flew into the cave and disappeared for few minutes. Then he came back and landed on Dante's shoulder, assuring him the area was clear.

'Alright', Vale nodded, but didn't discharge Solwing, just in case. 'I'll go first.'

The girls accepted; Scarlet with gratefulness, Zhalia with an ironic face telling: '_Oh, what a surprise_.' She couldn't see his inner battles, though. He wondered how to split himself in two and watch their front and back in the same time. As he entered the cairn, he had a strange feeling that something bad would happen right behind him. He checked the group order and got a bit relieved. As he had seized the leading position, Zhalia kept an eye on the end. They instinctively took Scarlet, the weakest spot in their formation, between them to have an opportunity to shield her if needed. However, she quickly broke off their protection, approaching the walls and gasping with shock.

'I can't believe it!', she slid her finger through the spiral pattern, ornamented with flat whitish parts. 'It's exactly like in the Robert Lloyd Praeger's report about the first Carrowkeel entry! _T__here beads of stone, bone implements made from Red Deer antlers…', _she whispered.

'Fine, fine', Zhalia interrupted her. 'Just get down to work. I'm not gonna spend the rest of my life here. I guess the residents wouldn't be pleased with a new flatmate', she threw a wry joke, however, it didn't amuse Dante at all. It wasn't the best place to make jokes about death. Let alone all the superstitions about the revenge of the dead, but… there was always a risk something else would make them stay in the stuffy, cold tombs forever. A cave-in, for example. Another unfortunate accident. Or a well-thought-out, cunning ambush…

He twitched when Solwing's feathers brushed his cheek as suddenly the falcon flashed through the chamber. Dante looked around and noticed the object of the Titan's interest: a small rodent plastered to the wall and crawling to get to the surface. However, it seemed it wouldn't manage, as Solwing's claws were just few centimeters away from its body.

'Solwing, stop!', Dante managed to choke out, shocked by the witnessed view. He had never seen a Titan lashing at a living creature without a reason – an order from their Seeker or to protect him from an unexpected attack. But just like that?! Impossible! The Titans, even those similar to real-world animals, weren't supposed to act like predators! Apparently, Solwing did, though. He didn't listen to Dante's call and dashed at the rodent like a lightning; shortly after, a loud squeal filled the air, raising the short hair on the back of the man's neck.

'What are you doing?!', he yelled at Solwing, jumping to him as the bird landed on the stone, holding the prey in his claws. The rodent struggled in the cage of the falcon's talons, desperately fighting for its freedom.

'What is that?', Scarlet asked, approaching them and leaning to the animal. 'A field mouse, maybe?'

'Oh, just leave that', Zhalia snarled. 'I thought we're Seekers, not zoologists.'

Just like her, Dante thought that the whole event, mostly Solwing's behavior, was more important than distinguishing the rodent, but he examined it more attentively nevertheless, which wasn't so easy due to the prey's lashing around. In close-up, it looked more like a weasel, with its triangular muzzle and long, reddish body, however, it lacked the white patch on the belly and was embodied with ear tufts and a flossy, auburn tail, resembling a squirrel. However, any squirrel species known so far didn't have horns on its head.

'A Titan', Dante realized immediately but his voice got drowned by Solwing's sudden cry. The squirrel-like Titan bit his abdomen and freed itself from the enemy's strong grip.

'Boltflare!', Dante shouted, but collecting Solwing's energy to the amulet and firing the spell at the same time didn't work; the light sphere missed the Titan by an inch as the creature, once it landed on the floor, tensed its muscles and lunged at the first person it saw.

Scarlet screamed piercingly when her power shield, flickering faintly and too weak due to haste, failed her and the Titan fell onto her face, scratching it violently and reaching to her eyes, though she tried to push it away. As dealing with the attacker with spells was out of question, Dante rushed to tear it off her face. However, he felt the animalistic being stuck itself to the girl's flesh with the whole set of needle-like claws and was afraid of pulling too hard not to rip her whole skin off.

Zhalia didn't have such reluctances.

'Touchram!', she shouted, blowing the attacker (and Dante's hand, almost, as he took it away in time) off Scarlet's face. The mad squirrel hit the wall, turning into a band of muddy-green energy. It flowed into the tunnel mouth behind the operative Moon. Dante tensed and made a step forward, then some more, slowly approaching the corridor. However, as he noticed a move in the dimness, he speeded up. He saw a shadowy figure about to disappear in the depths of the tomb, but he managed to stop it with accurate Raypulse. The person tripped and fell down, spilling around a lot of goods clattering in contact with the ground stones. Dante lit Boltflare in his hand, prepared to use it as a bullet if needed, and stood above the mysterious guy. In the gleaming flame, he noticed a high forehead crowned by short, fiery red hair and two small eyes squinted and burning in fury. The man's expression resembled a wolf's muzzle, contorted and craggy due to the rage he tried to suppress. Dante had seen too many faces like this one not to recognize it.

'You're an Organization goon, aren't you?', he growled.

Surprisingly, the guy answered with a smirk.

'Good guessing', he responded spitefully. 'You won a blow job.'

Before Dante caught the double meaning of that joke, the man revealed it to him fully, pressing a red button on the device strapped to his belt. A frightening explosion shook the whole cave, knocking them off their feet. Before Dante regained balance, the Organization bruiser jerked up like a wild animal and kicked him out the tunnel, right into the twister of falling rocks. Pain after the blow right into the abdomen blinded Vale, for a moment, his body urged him just to lie here paralyzed and fight for a breath, but the clamor of the destroyed chamber quickly roused him to action. The vibrations of the ground made it hard to stood on his feet again, however, he desperately tried to make his way through the wreck, pushing himself to the limits despite the itch of his cells. He crawled among the stones, avoiding the bullets raining from the ceiling. Few of them almost crushed his head. The noise deafened him; if he didn't fall onto Scarlet, he'd never hear her screaming. He barged her to the wall and casted Overshield over their heads, then turned around, trying to catch a move behind the lasting shower of the heavy blocks.

'Zhalia!', he tried to outshout the din; though his midriff hurt from the effort, he himself barely heard his own voice. 'Where is Zhalia?!'

Scarlet didn't answer, just shook her head, trembling, bundling and covering her ears in terror. Dante quickly get she wouldn't be much help. He blinked, trying to clear his vision off the speckles covering his lashes and pierce the bluish flashes of the barrier resisting the stone bullets, but it didn't help much; he couldn't see anything… anyone…

'Zhalia!', he yelled at the top of his lungs and was about to jump again into the storm of boulders but he got perched in place, pulled by the duster. He struggled and finally slid from the cloak, leaving it in Scarlet's hands, about to search desperately for the third member of the party, but suddenly fell back when an impact threw him onto the wall. Those two combined efforts saved him from being crushed by a large boulder, which resembled a dot to the i's.

After that, everything went silent finally. The brownish dust started to cover everything in a thick layer of dirt, falling down as gracefully as a dark snow. It looked as if nothing had happened. If not only the floor crushed in half by the boulders and the angular wall separating them from the left part of the tomb… No third body around, not a sign of anyone pulling herself together after the cave-in…

'No', Dante mumbled in fear, barely moving his numb lips.

**The same day, 15:35**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

I cough and spit, trying to clear my mouth off the dust; tears come down my cheeks, washing away the speckles stuck under my lids. My body trembles violently when I lie on my back, paralyzed, unable to stand up. Everything in me shakes, as if the explosion occurred both outside and inside me. What the f*ck was that?! A local attraction for bored tourists?!

I make an effort to lift my tense body up, using my hands as a pry. However, when I lean them on the surface, I state that it's not made of stone, as I thought. It's soft. Supple. And surprisingly warm. I strengthen the grip which results in a moan in my ear.

'Damn, babe', a hoarse male voice says, 'I'm eager to continue, but it's not the position that gets me wired the most.'

And then I realize that it's not SOMETHING I lay on. It's SOMEONE. And I'm actually touching his crotch. It's not the first time in my life, though. When I jump onto my feet and get plastered to the wall with my back, lightening the chamber with Boltflare, I realize I know that man. Down to the… ekhem… _boner_.

'Ryder', I choke out with my eyes wide open.


	18. Chapter 18: Cheating a Cheater

**Long time no see!**

Did you know that this sentence was invented by Chinese emigrants who couldn't speak 'It's been a long time' properly?

Alright, I'm just trying to fast talk you to delay the moment when I will have to explain myself for such a long absence.

I'm sorry, guys. I really tried to do my best, but there was a lot of things that kept me away from writing. I don't want to play on your feelings by poor excuses, but I will just try to abridge you that month.

First: just as I expected, I failed my History exam. Luckily, most of my grade did, so I didn't feel alone in that failure. I don't say I enjoyed my colleagues' loss, but it's better to fail with friends, right? Besides, I'd feel like a worst idiot if I was one among, let's say, four who didn't make it. I'm still sad about that, though, mostly because I will have to re-take it soon and I still don't feel prepared enough. I hope a miracle would happen...

Second: like always, I had a lot of work. New tests, new kanji signs, Chinese lessons... You can imagine how it feels like to be deep in the work. I don't have to describe it further. Let me just say - Chinese is a drug. Not due to the language alone - the grammar is rather simple - but the schedule of that course is rather messed for me. Why am I supposed to read dialogues written in signs I've just seen during the same lesson?!

Third: the end of winter found me dull, exhausted and nervous. I don't know why - maybe it's the weather? It changes so often - the sun, then the snow, and so on. It's always like that in March, at least in Poland. I feel as if I was waking up from a long winter dream... It might take a while to gain new strength.

Fourth - connected to the previous one and the most important, I think - I've tried to make this chapter perfect. And I got stuck. I've changed the plot so many times that I got lost in it myself. Then, I rewrote it again - and still don't know if it's good enough to post. But, as you were starting to get impatient, I couldn't let you down.

This chapter was originally approx. eight pages longer. However, I thought that the events occuring after the main adventure are also very important and deserve a separate chapter. After all, Ryder's case isn't just a casual thing... I guess the Foundation wouldn't just get over it. But I'm not sure if you would like to read about the later investigation and Zhalia's struggles to keep herself covered. I can just tell that this chapter would introduce new characters, yet don't push aside the main pairing - on the contrary, develop their bond even further.

If you vote against it, I'll just try to write a short ending there. However, I'm not sure if it would be that good, as I'm not very skilled in diminishing my stories. But the choice is yours.

Thank you guys for being there and writing to me despite my absence. You always make my day. I didn't expect anyone to already miss my story. I know you all like to read it, but... aww, I can't explain it... I thought that was just like 'Oh, new chapter. I will read. Oh, no chapter. Let it be'. However, you always surprise me. You proved you are like... fans (I don't know if that's a good word, it would make me an idol and I don't feel like one...). No, let's write: devoted Readers.  
I read all the comments and longed for a chance to answer them. So, here it comes.

**- Joey8:** I was so touched when I found your message in my inbox. It gave me a big kick to get back to work - both education and writing. I'm sorry I didn't make it as fast as I promised. But I managed to update during weekend! I think we have similar overview on the way the minor characters are treated in Huntik. I'm actually happy I could give Cathy more room. I plan to lengthen her screentime. She's a very fresh character, I think she and Zhalia would make a good duo - better than Zhalia and Sophie, actually.  
I hope Ryder will gather as much praises as her :) I actually like his way of speaking - it's so different from Dante's calm and collected demeanor. We fell in love with Dante's chivalry and joy and any of us doesn't expect him to suddenly change into a bad boy, but... they are also necessary! At least to be villains or add the sarcasm :) So, having Ryder around, I can satisfy both needs.  
- **Kimberly: **My heart almost broke when I read your desperate comment... I couldn't wait any longer. I hope you'd enjoy this chapter and soothe your longing a bit... especially 'cause I stuffed a lot of Ryder's humor into it :D Maybe he's not exactly a character that seems appealing from the start and might leave you wonder why the hell Zhalia fancied him, but... sometimes we girls get hit on the head or something and go chasing after boys whom we didn't see as ideals. And so, if we have Dante whom we love for his stability and thoughtfulness, here's also Ryder who strikes with a bastard charm. Anyway, I hope I would explain their relationship better in the upcoming chapters, adding Zhalia's thoughts about it. For now, just a preview.  
- **Jess: **I've always wanted to dwell into the Lamberts' household a bit, as I simply love family relationships... They struck me with their care for each other. Remember all the scenes when Lok's mother rushes to his aid and he gets enraged when the villains hurt her? They always make me touched. I think about my Mom then, and I know she would do the same for me. And though I'm not always the best daughter and happen to hurt her myself, I'd never ever let anyone lay a finger on her or offend her in any way. And about Cathy - I also have an older sister. We scuffle and argue, we call each other names, but every tease is full of our mutual love. I don't know what it is about having a father away, like Eathon - mine is with me, luckily - but I know that if we got separated, I would miss him like hell, even if we often fall apart. I will always cherish family bonds - and praise them in my chapters.  
- **CindyKayla**: I'm sorry for omitting the date! There will be one... if you decide to have another chapter about Irish adventures. It'll turn the tables... Zhalia would lose some of her sharpness. I guess it will also give Dante a chance to make up for his gaffes and show some of his balls (not literally, you perverts ;P), which some people question he has. Some of my friends accused Dante of being too soft. I also wonder if I don't make him too... you know... wimpy. I've always seen him as gentle yet strong, but maybe my imagination and the way I write don't match? I don't want the readers to wonder 'Why does Zhalia fancy such a pussy?!', just to nod their heads and say 'Ah, I perfectly understand her...' So, if you have any observations on that topic, please, share them with me.

- **CrzyAsians: **thanks for following, hope you'll favourite as well, but if something keeps you from it, tell me, maybe it'll help me improve :) Please stay here and have fun!

What else can I say? I hope this chapter is good enough to make you forgive me. But hell, I'm telling you, I haven't been so anxious in a while... I'm preparing for a rain of tomatoes!

Please, have mercy!

Sha

* * *

**15th July 2009, Wednesday, 15:35**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

Dante's walkthrough broke the spherical Overshield like a muslin curtain when left the safety zone as soon as he got convinced that the cave-in wouldn't surprise him with another attempt to smash him like a tomato. He dashed to the rocky wall and plastered to it, examining it closely. He tried to find a hole in the thick rubble, but as he looked closer at its surface, his hope to discover at least a slightest slit decreased drastically every minute. He reached the end of the wall and started to search again, shifting the smaller stones, sliding his hand between the larger boulders and checking if they were movable, then bracing himself against the ground and pressing them with his whole body, despite the pain piercing his muscles. The rampart was thick and made of big blocks. There was no way for a single man to break it. But for a Titan… Metagolem, perhaps…

Vale checked the free space to estimate if the colossus would fit in the place. The Titan would have to bent a bit… however, the possibility of the awkward giant throwing off egg-sized stones from above raised. The ceiling was unstable already, violating it even more could have meant sealing their fate. Then, Caliban maybe? No; the warrior's strength came in handy many times, but even for him, removing the burden would take few hours, if not longer. They didn't have as much time.

Dante growled, thinking desperately of another plan, but his thoughts seemed to stuck in place, unable to invent some other ways to solve the situation, paralyzed by tension and fright spreading through his veins. Out of anger, he banged his fists against the surface of the rubble, insensible to the pain caused by small sharp pebbles nailing into his skin and moved only by his own helplessness. He clenched his teeth, letting a long set of Italian curses escape his mouth in a piercing whisper and clamping his lids. In the silence broken only by his furious hiss, Scarlet's sobs sounded very loud. And… annoying like hell, especially to his shaken inner calmness. Damn, even his usual patience couldn't have resisted such behavior. Of course, that was an easiest way to solve problems: sit there, do nothing apart from crying and wait for another cave-in to bury them here. A brilliant idea, really!

He shook himself off like a dog after a bath, disgusted by such visions. There was no option for him to surrender now. Zhalia could be somewhere behind the blocks... under them… unconscious, injured, helpless… or…

_No_, he protested stridently against that doomsayer sneaking into his head. _Don't you even dare thinking like that, Vale. There's nothing certain unless you see it with your own eyes, remember. _

And the only thing he saw was Zhalia's absence. It didn't mean anything. As a competent agent, she wasn't new to such dangerous and unexpected events and had proved many times she could find a right way to effectively avoid unpleasant accidents, even caught by surprise. Maybe she had found shelter in the nearest nook and got stuck on the other side of the wall. He shouldn't have lost his hope yet. And regain control immediately. Someone had to do so, if Scarlet wasn't going to take responsibility for the mission she had dragged them into.

He straightened up, stretching out his strained shoulders and resuming what he had noticed until now. Apparently, the destroyed cavern got divided in two parts. As Dante estimated from the measurements of the whole chamber, they got stuck in the bigger section; the entrance of the tomb was cut away from either of the segments, though. However, there were still other tunnel mouths left… It might have seemed difficult, but…

'We'll have to find another way out', he stated, separating from the wall; he winced, feeling all the places when rock had grazed his knuckles.

Scarlet's only response was a loud sob. And that was the worst answer she could've given him; it stung his hectic nerves and hit their weakest spot, already at the edge of breaking into a scream. For a moment when his primitive instincts prevailed, he wanted to turn away and yell at her to zip it up, to act like a grown-up, not a little girl, to lift the burden of her actions, to carry the consequences she deserved for her stupid cocky ideas; to throw at her that for the first time in her life, she should have stopped giving up in stalemate and relying on the others to correct her mistakes.

But he couldn't bring himself to do that when he looked at her and opened his mouth to let the harmful words escape them. Suddenly, he shut his gob, chewing all the reproofs, his arms lowered at the sight of the woman kneeling on the floor. Yellowish dust had sifted her whole silhouette, however, she was far from looking like a fairy covered in golden powder. Her tousled curls' bright red shade had gotten dimmed by the dirt, her creased clothes had ripped in few places, revealing few shallow, pinkish scratches and a bleeding knee. He didn't probably look better, however, at least he had quickly gotten a grip on himself. Scarlet hadn't; she trembled heavily, as if she had had an attack. If her pale fingers hadn't been tightened at his cloak, torn off his back few moments ago, her nails would turn her skin into one big wound. If it hadn't already been a gash due to the attack of the squirrel Titan, of course.

Dante felt the shame grasping at his throat when he stared at his devastated companion, recalling a violent attack of the unearthly weasel as he saw the blood trickling between her knuckles and striking with crimson against the background of her waxy complexion. Scarlet was shattered after all; he shouldn't have added to her misery by venting his anger at her. He followed his deepest, most valuable instinct and approached her, then squatted next to Byrne. He reached to her face, hidden in the duster, to take a closer look at the injuries. She recoiled, shaking her head and pressing the fabric to her cheeks so tightly that the force had left reddish spots on her temples.

'Scarlet', he said in a calm, gentle manner he had learnt to use towards devastated women who had densely filled his life, not only as a detective. 'You have to show me your face. It has to be treated before we move on.'

She protested noiselessly, wriggling even harder, but he perched her in place with a firm yet non-violent gesture, placing both hands on her shoulders.

'We don't want the scratches to get infected, right?', he carried on convincingly. 'I will just treat the wounds. I'm not a damn paparazzo to take a photo and update it in your Huntik profile, right?', he added, forcing a smile and making his voice sound confident. Only heaven knew how much it cost him.

Scarlet got stunned, then slowly, slowly removed the cloak from her face, raising her chin. Dante held back a stifled shout as he stared at the shambles the weasel had left. Scarlet's cheeks were all covered in scratches and burning stains. Blood dripping from the wounds got smeared all around and mixed with tears; a thin layer of salt dried up on her lower eyelids, her eyes red and squinted due to crying.

Her lips trembled as she noticed her reflection in Dante's eyes, so he quickly looked aside, rummaging through his backpack and drawing out a medicine kit. He cleaned Scarlet's skin with a tissue soaked in the peroxide. It made her focus on the pain not appearance; she hissed, but remained still, calmed down by Dante's murmur. She handled sticking the plasters on the biggest scratches with patience, abandoning herself to the treatment.

'Done', Dante announced, smoothing the edges of the plasters. 'Better?'

Scarlet nodded hesitantly, but her lips didn't stop to shiver warningly. Eventually, she burst into tears again and fell onto Dante's chest head on. He stiffened, not pleased by that intimacy, but then loosened again, reproaching himself that right at this moment, it didn't have any sensual meaning. She just needed comfort, a person to lean on and tell her everything would be alright. He embraced her, letting her surrender herself into his arms and bury her injured face into his clothes. He heaved a sigh and smoothed her hair in a soothing manner.

'There, there', he whispered softly, patting her shoulder. 'It's fine. No need to cry. We both are OK… the scratches will heal soon as well. We just have to get out of here.'

'Please, don't leave me', she mumbled beggingly like a child after a nightmare, breathing heavily through her blocked nose and swallowing tears. 'Please.'

'I won't', Dante assured her, through part of him wanted to go as far away as possible from her grip resembling a straitjacket. 'We have to stick together.'

_Stick together_, his brain mocked him. _You've already lost one of your teammates._

Yes. Zhalia. Zhalia, her location and state unknown, lost somewhere in the tomb, separated from the main halls of the labyrinth, with no way to get out, maybe stuck under the boulder or left at mercy of that mysterious Organization muscleman…

He freed himself from Scarlet's embrace and stood up. She looked at him, disoriented and puzzled by that sudden change. Meanwhile, Dante checked the reception in his phone. No signal, just as he expected. He opened the Internet browser. Failure as well. After all, they were underground. Holotome was working, but as the connection was off, they wouldn't contact anyone and check any of the maps stored in the online database. There was only the paper map left. And human mind, the source of knowledge independent of the availability of network and telephony.

'We're cut off the electronic assistance, we can't even send the red alert to get help from the Foundation', he explained. 'We have to rely on our own skills. However, I don't know the tomb', he said sturdily. 'I will need your guidance to get us out. Will you manage?'

Scarlet eyed him for a moment, checking his expression, as if she had expected him to burst into a mean laughter and tell her he had only joked, knowing that such a wimp like her wouldn't be any help. However, he wasn't going to, such thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He kept still, unmoved, encouraging. Finally, she nodded.

'I will', she murmured, wiping the tears off the face with the sleeve of his duster. When she realized that, her face got confused. 'Oh, I'm sorry…', she looked at the black spots left by her mascara. 'I always mess everything up…'

She was about to break apart again, but Dante quickly took the duster from her hands and flung it over his shoulders.

'Don't bother', he said calmly. 'I've got worse problems than a stained cloak. But', he added a bit more loudly, seeing her chin shivering dangerously at those words, 'it's a right time to try to fix them. Let's go. We have to find Zhalia. She may need us.'

Scarlet didn't seem cheered up, but accepted with resignation. As they descended into the lower parts of the tomb, Dante could just pray she wouldn't cause more troubles and be a burden if they met another extremes. However, despite his request for help, he felt that he'd be the one to carry the weight of this mission on his shoulders.

If it meant finding Zhalia safe and sound, he'd accept those conditions without hesitation.

**The same day, 15:36**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

I can't convince myself I'm not dreaming. I'd rather believe in one of my morning nightmares that in the view spreading before my eyes. I pinched myself furtively, just in case, but it didn't help. Maybe I did something wrong, maybe there's a special pattern of pinching to break mind-boggling visions. Or it's a far-fetched idea working only in the movies. Or…

I have a special habit of weaving stupid thoughts right at the times when I have to focus on more important problems, don't I? Quite an annoying thing, if you ask me. I guess it's the way my brain deals with incredible events. Is there a better description for the situation I found myself in? I'm in some stinky ancient grave which exploded right after I entered it, and when I found myself alive and well, I stood face to face the last person I should have met there. If there's someone who'd call that ordinary, apply to the mental hospital at once. Maybe we'll bump into each other there soon; due to the twists of fate my life serves me with a perverse mock, I'd probably need a special treatment someday.

In Boltflare's flickering flame, I observe a guy lying on the ground in quite an uncomfortable position, with his limbs spread like a spider's legs, though not as skinny; rather fleshy, thick like a branch and as tough as a tree trunk, what is visible even under a muddy-greenish jersey and baggy khaki trousers with protective pads on the knees. A multi-pocket vest hangs loose on his both sides, revealing his whole wide chest with clearly imprinted belly muscles a bit lower, tensing when he jeers eventually, leaning on his elbows and throwing me a stare from under his wide brows, sliding it across me up and down, and up again before giving out a short chuckle.

'What a sur-f*cking-prise, eh?', he murmurs in his raspy voice.

That old catchphrase of his… He still uses it, after all this time…

Despite my shock and disbelief, there's no doubt. I'm facing an Organization operative, one of the most efficient treasure hunters they could afford, the most hardshell freelancer and individual…

And someone I've tried to throw out of my memory a long time ago. However, as you see, it didn't help much. I'd recognize that ugly mug everywhere, he hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him.

'Ryder', I drawl slowly, trying to hide my shock and soak my words in disdain. 'But… how…?', my voice doesn't sound exactly tough, so I quickly shut my gob.

He moves his mouth slightly, though the grimace doesn't resemble a smile.

'I wasn't quite sure before, but now it's all clear! Who else would start from lightening a candle and a foreplay?', he leans his arms on his knees, then massages his bum openly, as if I wasn't there to see it. 'Though I didn't think I would bump into you right here, in a f*cking ancient dump full of stiffs after three years', he continues, not taking his eyes off me, as if he waited for my reaction. He'll wait way longer; I clench my teeth, not going to comment his stream of remarks. Not only because I'm not going to act as if I was pleased with that meeting, but also 'cause I'm afraid I'd sound so confused and puzzled again. He raises his brows questioningly.

'No more hugs?', he ironizes, opening his arms theatrically. 'I expected something more after our first meeting in a while… and saving your life', he adds, trying to pull himself together. 'Ouch, you've gained some weight, didn't you?', he says, moaning and holding his sternum like an old man. In that position, he gets up from the floor slowly, resembling a hunchback from the Notre Dame. Then he straightens up cautiously and shapes up his loose military trousers, sweeping them off the dust negligently.

'Daaamn, it was quite a blast', he speaks up when he finally pulls himself together and looks around the cavern. 'Hell, when I said: '_I want a f*cker'_, I didn't mean it could spread me all around the walls! ', he murmurs to himself, knocking to the rock as if he counted that a freaking cave kobold would open a hidden door and show him the way out, bowing. Suddenly, he stops, hearing a loud crack under his boot. He lifts something from the ground and then puts it closer to his eyes, squinting them. 'Well, guess me and Dud'll have a heart-to-heart soon… He thought he'd get rid of me like that or what?', he wonders out loud. 'Well, he'd be pleased it worked… at least on that wuss', he snarls and throws the item onto the ground. It slides to my feet, rolling left and right for few second; when it stops, it becomes clear it's a shell of a payload. I eye it gaping, then everything – I mean, the chain: the explosion - Ryder's blabbering – the torn asunder shell - starts to make sense… However, instead of being overjoyed by the solution and finding the origins of the sudden impact, I feel anger arising in the depths of my chest and rushing to my head with a wave of hot blood as I realize who is the 'wuss' he is talking about.

'RRRRRRRRYDERRRRRRR!', I yell, turning the R's into a growl. 'I'M GONNA ROAST YOU FOR THIS!'

The Raypulse sphere I held in my hand before flies from my hand and buzzes through the chamber like a furious hornet, flashing right before Ryder's nose and missing it by an inch. He sees it off with his stare as unconcerned as before, only smirking when it splashes on the rock like a fallen star.

'What a warm greeting', he ironizes, looking at the sparks meaningfully. 'Are you so happy to see me to set fireworks?'

His expression falls when another bullet dashes above his ear, forcing him to recoil abruptly.

'That firework can turn your balls into hard-boiled eggs in no time', I roar at him, raising another lantern. 'I've got at least one good reason to castrate you.'

'Do you mean that little spanking I gave you in Albania?', he asks innocently, blinking. 'Damn, I knew you'd come back to this… you foamed all over the mouth when I groped your chunky…'

'STOP THAT SH*T!', my lightning bullet almost turns his brain into a cooked cauliflower. 'YOU'VE BLOWN THE F*CK OUTTA THIS TOMB', I start to enumerate, accentuating every sentence with a blow, 'ALMOST BURIED ME UNDER THE BLOCKS, PROBABLY GOT RID OF MY TEAMMATES AND COMPLETELY RUINED MY MISSION!', I yell, watching him avoid the shots swiftly, much to my annoyance and adding to my ferocity. 'SO BETTER SHUT THE F*CK UP AND CUT THOSE STUPID JOKES OR I WILL…'

I give out a shout of fury and shock when suddenly some of the bullets ricochet against the barrier he raised and force me to move quickly not to get hit. Ryder bursts into laughter, seeing my wild dance. It enrages me even more, shading my sobriety; I dash forward, leaping at him fiercely. He smoothly avoids my kick, with his face bored as if he was bothered by a nasty fly. I attempt to punch him, but then he catches my wrist and twists my arm onto my back. I try to use my legs to force my way out, but he takes care to disarm me; his knee stuffed between mine and hooked on one of my calves is quite a capable burden. Damn. I'm the only one guilty of my failure. I should've remember that at the distance, I'm on the upper hand. He's never been into powers and spells more advanced than basic shields and bullets. And I voluntarily moved the clash onto his territory, hand-to-hand combat, where I have no chances against such a strapper.

'Cool it', he says slowly to my ear, not loosening his grip. 'Are you f*cking crazy to scream bloody murder and lash around like a joker?! There's just been a cave-in!'

'A CAVE-IN YOU'VE CAUSED, DAMN IT!', I bark at him, trying to reach him with my free hand, however, it seems pointless, as he keeps a safe distance between us, restraining me at the same time.

'This was controlled. We don't want another one, way more unhampered, right?', he carries on, pushing my arm so strongly that it's about to get numb. 'So, calm your tits or I'll have to gag you.'

'Get off me!', I shout, still not abandoning the hope to wrench myself away. What does he think he's doing?!

THUMP.

As we struggle, a lone stone, separated from the angular ceiling, falls onto the ground right next to my feet. Not extraordinarily large – in a size of a medium aubergine. Big enough to splash my head like an egg if it fell few centimeters to the left. I swallow hardly.

'Alright', I say slowly, slackening in Ryder's grip. 'No more shouting and shooting.'

'Welcome the common sense back', he cracks scornfully.

I feel like a pumped-out bladder when he releases me. I fall onto my knees, feeling blood rushing into my numb legs like an army of ants. I rub them to make this process faster, however, it doesn't help much. When I try to get up, my calves fail me and I have to lean on the wall; there's no gentleman to help me stand…

Oh yeah, but there was at least one five minutes ago! And now… he might be everywhere. Literally. Spread on the rocks as tiny pieces of ripped flesh, blood and guts… I gulp again, trying to clear my mouth off the taste of bile which suddenly overflows it, mixing with the dust that got inside during the cave-in. How come I let this happen?! I'd have managed to help Dante… I would have casted a shield over him or something… but Ryder pulled me back into the nook before I even blinked.

And now, he's towering me, with both hands placed on his hips and a discontent face, as if I was a cockroach crawling through his sandwich. Who should be more pissed off, damn it?! It's not me who screwed everything up! More I stare at him, harder the anger boils in my guts. Eventually, I can't stand his expression anymore, so I curl up and then leap at him, slapping him across the face. He catches his jaw as if it almost fell off its place, his other hand squeezed on my wrist like a handcuff.

'What the hell was that for?!', he throws me a burning stare, tightening the grip.

'I wanna turn you into a bloody pulp for screwing my mission up!', I hiss, squinting my eyes out of fury. 'Did you have to show off?!'

'Oh yeah, I should have let that wuss crush me like a flamer on a skinhead parade', he ironizes, puffing through his nose like a balky horse.

'That WUSS', I underline, scrabbling, 'was MY prey! I was supposed to deliver that WUSS to the Professor!', I raise my voice, then got reminded about the labile ceiling and lower it to a piercing hiss: 'Alive and well enough to make Klaus extract every single info from his brain… and how am I going to do that having him turned into a minced meat?!'

'That doesn't explain a slap', Ryder shrugs, unmoved, but loosens the grasp a bit. 'I should be the one hairless. You hit Ratatoskr and made that fag find me. If you hadn't, I'd have sneaked out unnoticed, without all that shit. But I saved your life, after all', he highlights, trying to soothe my frustration. To no effect. I'm not quite moved by that confession. I'd have managed to get out alive on my own. Additionally, I wouldn't have gotten separated with my team… and let a freaking rock eliminate my precious prey.

'Thanks a lot', I scorn, shaking his hand off finally. 'Dying under the stones would be way more pleasant than the punishment Klaus will prepare for me when he learns about today.'

I fall onto a lone boulder with my butt, clenching my fists so hard that my nails leave traces on my skin. Ryder watches me cautiously from a safe distance; the faint shape of my hand on his face is still visible, after all, so he'd rather not risk another injury.

'So the rumors are true, huh?', he murmurs, still rubbing his cheek.

I peek at him expectantly, not sure what he means by that question. I was away from the Organization society for too long to know the freshest gossips. Otherwise I'd be the most knowledgeable source of info; it's my job to collect various data, just in case. Such a pity Klaus doesn't find it necessary to keep me posted about the news. I guess he doesn't want me to know that I'm becoming such a celebrity whose life is a main topic during the chatters, to preserve me from getting big-headed. No worry. After today, I'd rather want to do a Houdini.

'They say you joined the dimwits, and serve as a bait', Ryder explains, rummaging through the pocket of his military trousers.

'Oh', I choke out, those words turn the knife in the wound. A bait? Do they really talk so or it's just a translation in Ryderish? In a different situation, I'd most probably be pleased by that sudden change and interest I'm receiving, but now… Damn, if I'm already setting tongues wagging, how would they slag me off when they learn what happened…?

'Yeah', Ryder nods, not noticing my expression, now busy with checking his vest, patting the pockets. 'The Suits are making bets how long it will take you.'

Ryder's painful frankness leaves me hesitating. Not that I was surprised by his straightforwardness, but it arose a dilemma: should I be angry or amused that my colleagues are backing their cash on me like on an aspiring horse during the racing? Well, I know them too well to be offended by their greediness, however, I'm also not in the mood to roll on the floor laughing.

'What a pity', I just chuckle gloomily. 'I guess they can appoint the winner. My mission is over.'

He gets stunned, stopping the searching and knitting his brows, confused. Then, he catches something.

'You mean that wuss…', he points at the wall, probably meaning everything left behind it.

'Yup', I nod, bending my knees to my chest. 'It was Dante Vale.'

We both fall silent. Ryder seems knocked off the loop. He clears his throat, then brushes his face and centimeter-long red hair with his big, stout hand. The same pattern I remember clearly. It's hard to tell about him, but he seems preoccupied. Or just performs a well-acted scene not to endanger himself. He knows I'd gouge his eyes out if he started to fob me off with his cheesy jokes. However, when he has to tell something more witty than them, he loses his tongue.

'What a sur-f*cking-prise', he murmurs eventually, scratching his shaved chin. I snarl, hearing that. Boys never grow old of their habits. But don't expect me to slobber over that memory. I'd rather stuff that word back into his throat that welcome it with sentiment.

'He didn't look exactly like I imagined a pro. A pussy, rather', he carries on, trying to convince me, just not to fall a victim of my another outburst. Wrong way. His impressions on Dante sting me like a needle right between my bums. I know I laughed Vale off many times (damn, who wouldn't, seeing his greenish sunglasses?!), but who is Ryder to comment the other's appearance?! Brad Pitt?! Nope, he's just a big boy still playing war and looking like a plastic soldier figurine with a mug taken after Butterball from the _Hellraiser_ movies.

'Guess it saved you a great deal', he continues, getting more and more confident, as I don't react the way he expected. 'Getting rid of such a poove was far below your skills', he greases me, sending me his cocky stare from the corner of his eyes.

'It won't be a justification for Klaus', I dampen his enthusiasm. 'He'll skin me for this. I'm sure.'

Then silence again. No one has anything to add. I don't expect Ryder to deny my statement. Everyone in the Organization knows how erratic Klaus can be, even if they only listen to the gossips about him and his stubbornness. Those who know him can admit that all the stories about him aren't exaggerated. I'd rather say: incomplete. There'd be a lot more of nasty details to add.

Ryder had a chance to meet him in person. And it was quite an… intense interaction.

_**13th April 2004, Tuesday, 20:17**_

_**Klaus' library**_

_**Vienna**_

_**Austria**_

'_I am repeating it a thousandth time, and this will be the last!', Klaus' hoarse voice filled the whole library, raised in an irritated manner, breaking the evening calmness like a nail scratching the glass. 'I will not pay such a horrendous sum!'_

_I got curious at whom the scientist yelled like that. You know, I was just an eighteen years old chick. During this short period of time, I had gone through enough not to let me grow as a normal teenager. However, I was still just a callow and even if I usually thought like a world-weary dame, there were times when my behavior truly fitted my real age. That was one of the examples: I found a twisted pleasure in listening how Klaus scolded other people. It made up for the times when he vented his anger at me. _

_I turned the knob, keeping my fingers crossed that it wouldn't crack, and opened the door so lightly that there was just a slit to peek into, wide enough for one eye. I examined the interior as far as I could. Klaus was sitting in his leather armchair, like always. He repeated the same scheme every time someone visited him: a suitor entered his room and stood puzzled, not noticing him, and then he almost got a heart attack when the man suddenly turned the chair away from the curtained window. Klaus just loved their impressions. I thought he dreamt of a day when one of the petitioners would drop dead right in front of him and grant him another specimen to experiment on. _

_However, not this time again. The guy sitting before him didn't seem a wimp who fainted at a mere noise. I guessed that looking in the mirror every day had prepared him for disgusting views… I'd never seen such an ugly nose. I didn't know why they call that shape 'Roman'. Did really Italian ancestry, one of the pillars of our culture, after all, deserve to be associated with such a nozzle? It was quite a clever tactics to turn people's flaws into advantages, making them special, giving them sophisticated names or something. Then, I should have called those man's hair titian… no. No offending the dead painter. They were red. Fricking red. No wonder he kept them so short, like a pig's bristle. However, it still struck compared to his pale skin, especially given that he had a wide forehead, furrowed and creased as well as his face. He doesn't seem old, though. Rather like a tearaway who didn't hesitate to use his head as a ram and start a struggle in a bar, given his impressive built and muscles cambering his clothes. He had to have beef, as he lounged in his chair as if he hadn't been sitting in front of his superior agent and trying to make a deal with him. As he listened to Klaus' defenses, he just raised his eyebrow and leaned forward._

'_This is my last word', he said calmly with some dull English accent. His appearance didn't misguide me, he was from the Isles. 'All in exchange for the goods you ordered. Everything in the state of finding. No delay. Clean and neat like a first-class callgirl's ass.' _

_I smirked. He spoke like a western freewheeler or a low-budgeted action movie gangster. Klaus winced, I wasn't sure if due to the terms or the words the guy used. _

'_Those are standard conditions!', he snarled angrily. 'Every tracker could provide me those! Without ripping my last shirt off my back for a pile of rubbish!'_

'_Then maybe you should find another tracker', the Englishman shrugged, still playing with his metal cigarette lighter. 'But… If that's a pile of rubbish, why do you need it so much?', he shut the lighter and leaned to Klaus curiously, his muscular back, tucked in a khaki jersey, hunched a bit._

'_That shouldn't bother you', Klaus chided him._

'_It does', the man denied, the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. 'Maybe I should double the prize if that's so important.'_

'_A bold youngster you are!', Klaus remarked scornfully. 'And that is what makes me the most suspicious. Such brave lads tend to run away right after they smell fresh banknotes. I will not pay even an earnest without a proper agreement.' _

'_I'm not signing any papers', the stranger shook his head. 'My word must be enough for an assurance.'_

'_A word of some random tracker means as much as a cur's piss for me!', Klaus barked as if he was a mongrel himself. _

'_Too bad', the guy commented ostentatiously, raising from his chair. 'So, you'll have to scorch to England on your own, geezer', he threw disrespectfully, turning away._

'_Mind your tongue, you bantling!', Klaus barked, jerking up from his seat and reaching his hand out. I fell onto my bum when an impact of an explosion threw me back. I quickly got up from the floor only to find both men standing face to face and ready to pounce at each other ferociously. Klaus' hand was still covered in green Poisonfang venom and there were shreds of Overshield barrier still glistening around the redhead's boots on the carpet._

'_F*ck you, loony!', the tracker spitted at Klaus' feet, his saliva making a neat arch before landing at the wooden panels. 'You're the one who brought me here and now is sulking! Stick that cash in our ass, now I wouldn't accept the mission even if you turned my shits gold! I just don't know', his narrow eyes flash like fox's peepers for a moment, 'what the Professor will say when he learns that you stopped the research only due to stinginess…'_

'_You bastard!', Klaus attempted to attack again… but I dashed into the room and caught his arm._

I smirk to myself bitterly. Oh yeah. If I hadn't stepped in during their first encounter, it could have gotten way more unpleasant. However, I couldn't have known that I'd be the one regretting that bold choice.

'_Klaus, what's going on here?!', I jumped between them, though I wasn't sure if it would hold any of them back from starting a fight, even if it meant tearing me into pieces._

'_That straggler tries to make a fool of me!', the Austrian growled, his veins clearly visible on his temples. 'He thinks I would let him rip me off all the money with no guarantee that he would turn back with the requested items! I will not stand such impudence in my own house! Let go off me!', he struggled, trying to free his hand, but I knew him for too long not to take advantage on his weakest spots to restrain him. _

'_Hold it', I calmed him down, hissing. 'I'll handle it. How much is your price?', I asked the guy out loud. _

_I observed how he straightened up, losing some of a caged predator-like appearance. He eyed me suspiciously, looking me up and down, and up again. More he stared, harder it was for me to stand it, as his lips started to bend in quite a racy manner. When he hummed with satisfaction, stopping for a moment at the most strategic points of my silhouette, I was about to punch him right in the face so hardly that his nose would sink into the depths of his skull. If it hadn't been rather oblate after all._

'_One thousand five hundreds pounds', he responded lightly, not taking his peepers off my cleavage. That's probably why I felt as if he had estimated my own price. _

_I smacked my lips and snarled to show him my discontent. Who was him to demand such a high reward?! I'd worked for Klaus longer than him and never seen a half of that money!_

'_However, I could think about decreasing it a bit… if you propose me as interesting offer', he added, moving his brows up and down suggestively._

_Good thing I had to hold Klaus, otherwise I'd crush the tracker like a disgusting maggot. _

'_Alright, finish him off', I shrugged and let go of Klaus. The treasure hunter blinked, not understanding the sudden twist. However, he immediately switched to a combat mode; he lifted his guard abruptly, preparing for another clash. Then Klaus jerked his hand up; the guy tensed, but the scientist only caught his chin in a wondering manner, his artificial eye flashed behind the monocle as he gazed at me as if I had been a goddess who had blessed him with enlightenment. I responded with a furious stare, not understanding his changeable behavior. _

'_Wait', he soothed me. 'Remember that cleaning the Persian rug will cost even more. I guess that in that case, accepting your offer would be wiser', he nodded to the treasure hunter._

_I gaped, dumbstruck by his shocking reaction. He went mad over his money but ignored treating me like a slut?! Uh… It shouldn't have surprised me, after all._

'_However', he continued, now with a smile as mild as his velvet vest, 'I still need a guarantee that you will fulfill your duties to the letter.'_

'_And the guarantee will be…?', the stranger responded, his tense voice coated with politeness; I couldn't believe in that sudden change. A moment before, they had been about to go to the limits to wipe each other off existence, and now they have a lord-like conversation?!_

_I shivered when Klaus placed his hand on my shoulder and said as if it had been obvious:_

'_Her, of course.'_

'_WHAT?!', I managed to choke out along with the tracker before the scientist pushed me forward like a gladiator onto the arena, thrown to the lions. The ginger lost interest in Klaus, ignoring even the threat that he'd get turned into a frog in no time if he stopped watching the scientist carefully. He focused on me, piercing me with his wolfish eyes. I felt like under an X-ray, with shivers shooting through me from head to toes. I couldn't even back having Klaus behind me. I just stood there like a cow to be sold when the traders were discussing the transaction._

'_You will just have to accept an extra passenger or say goodbye to your money', Klaus crossed his arms on his skinny chest. 'And I guess that the Professor would be even more disappointed by your refusal to a superior operative than by my delay…', he added in passing, examining his nails ostentatiously._

'_No way. Do you suppose me to babysit that chick?', the hunter lost interest in my anatomic details and paid more attention to the practical terms. Balancing it with visual advantages, he apparently voted they were no match for his methods of working. He seemed to have some brain, luckily. _

'_Don't worry', Klaus waved his hand dismissively. 'Zhalia is not one you would have to look after.'_

_The guy's eyes returned to me quickly. I felt their chilliness on my skin when they made a journey through my body, then stopped at my face, apparently turning it into a frozen mask, as I stated my muscles tensed automatically._

'_Zhalia?', he repeated suspiciously. 'That Zhalia Moon? You gotta be kidding me', he snarled. 'I won't believe that the Professor's chosen one is such a brat…'_

'_Watch your tongue, young man', Klaus warned him. 'That 'brat', as you dared to name my precious little charge', Klaus' sudden words of fondness didn't help me regain my senses, and he shocked me even more, adding praises to them, 'got rid of threats more important than you. The Professor highly values her skills.' _

'_I've heard about them. A lot', Ryder admits, his stare losing a bit of their coldness and gaining a lot of curiosity and… strange, animalistic hunger, igniting sparks deep down his pupils. I had to swallow as I watched them flickering despite the lack of light around; strangely, my mouth watered, as if I had been a Pavlov's dog, though my throat felt extraordinarily sore._

'_If that is so, you should understand she would be very useful for you', Klaus kept the persuasion going slyly, inflecting his voice suggestively. 'So, what is your answer?'_

_The tracker's only response was a heavy curse, quickly garbled by a snog stuffed into his mouth. However, Klaus knew exactly how he should have read that reaction, given its resigned tune. He allowed himself to give out a hoarse chuckle, which didn't help to scare away the tense atmosphere, though._

'_Then, maybe we should sit and talk over the details?', he opened his arms, inviting his guest to take a seat and looking me in the eyes piercingly, seeing my body trembling from emotions._

_I could only clench my teeth not to yell at the top of my lungs._

**15th July 2009, Wednesday, 15:49**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

I twitch when Ryder pokes me. I raise my head and give him a sharp stare, angry that he interrupts my sorrowful isolation. My eyes fall onto a small carton with one white and orange stick rolling left and right. An almost empty box of cigarettes. I could expect that. He's still a chain-smoker.

He reaches the packet to me, giving me an encouraging stare.

'The last one', he shakes the box and the lone snog hits both walls. 'Have a smoke.'

'Stuff that in your ass', I come back to my shell again, mumbling from behind my palms.

'Odd fantasies still on, I see', he comments, sitting next to me; I feel his back touching my hip when he makes himself comfortable, almost knocking me off the rock with his wide ass.

A short crack makes me peek at him between my parted fingers. He stuck the last ciggy between his lips and now opens his inevitable Zippo lighter. So, he still has it. I could never understand that he had to carry it everywhere he went and got so angry forgetting it. It seems new, cleaned to a high-class polish, but I know it's only due to Ryder's strange attachment to that old thing. But that's another story. Enough saying, seeing him without the lighter is as rare as spotting two guys pissing to the contiguous urinals. Even now, he smoothes it with his fingers in a thoughtful way, playing with the shutting. The flame lightens, then goes off. I always get hypnotized by such routine events. Especially when my only dream is zoning out.

'We're both in quite a deep sh*t', Ryder comments, moving the snog to the corner of his mouth. 'The entrance is closed. Finding another exit would take a lot of time, and I'd like to catch the evening flight. My payment depends on it, faster I make it, higher it will be.'

'Oh yeah, tell me about your dreadful troubles', I snarl sardonically, 'right when I'm wondering how to save my life and explain to both Klaus and the Foundation that I lost Vale.'

'He might be still alive', Ryder shrugs, not quite moved. 'I kicked him outta the tunnel before it got destroyed. If he's such a pro, he'd get out with no problem. It'd be quite a view to see, though. The top Huntik operative thrashing in the tunnels like a rat in the labyrinth…', he smirks, chewing the end of his ciggy.

'You think it's funny?!', I yell at him, pushed to the edge of my patience. 'My life depends on it, damn it!'

'Nope', he puts me off inattentively, puffing out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. 'Your life depends on my orientation only. And so, you don't have to freak out. Remember I'm a tracker, I never get lost.'

His dismissive tone ignites a flame of rage in my guts. What does he think, that I'll fall to his knees and kiss his feet for being so chivalrous and offering me his guidance?! He _owes _that to me, damn it, however, it's not like I'd really need it. But does he consider such option? Nope. He acts as if he showed me mercy and couldn't imagine I would refuse him! I hate stuck-up men. Even if I used to be very close to them. It doesn't make them immune to my anger, damn it! It even worsens the consequences.

'Oh, thank you, my hero', I crack disdainfully. 'What could I do without you?! Maybe, as a _Foundation _operative', I accentuate sarcastically, 'I would send the red alert and fill this place with as many agents as station in Ireland.'

Ryder freezes beside me.

'You wouldn't do that', he says in a seemingly relaxed tone, though I still feel his tension. He wouldn't fool me with that casual smoking and stuff.

'Why not?', I shrug, mocking his gesture with the brows. 'I have nothing to lose. If I can't bring Vale back, I'd at least give them a prey to blame…'

Suddenly his cigarette falls onto the ground, still burning. It alarms me and make me jump away when Ryder attempts to immobilize me again. I aim myself with Poisonfang, just in case. I have to go through this talk on my conditions.

'No wrong move', I warn him, underlining my upper position.

'You won't get out without me', he hoarses, lifting himself onto his feet again and panting hard. 'You don't know the tomb. One wrong turn and you'll stay here forever. Even the location spells you learnt from me won't help you.'

'See?', I put one hand on my hip. 'We both have something to offer. It's enough to make a deal as equals, right?', I wave my cell before his eyes. He tries to catch it with Bubblelift, but I hide it in my hand in time, bantering with him on purpose. 'You will get me out the tomb and help me find Vale, and I won't give you out to the Foundation.'

'If you suppose me to run around the grave and look for that wuss…', he lowers his voice in annoyance.

'Exactly', I fake a wide, irritating smile. 'Otherwise the Foundation would accuse you of murdering him. You'll become famous', I rile him, 'maybe the Professor would appoint you a hero after your honorable death for the Organization…'

'You…', Ryder starts, but chews a curse in his mouth, minding the bullet in my hands.

'So?', I tilt my head left, waiting for his answer.

He tries the old trick with throwing me a furious stare to discourage me, but I don't give a damn anymore. I'm not a teenager now, there are a few things that could kick me outta the track. I learnt my ways to achieve my goals no matter what. Thanks to Klaus' treatment, I'm experienced in standing my ground like a hard-boiled gunslinger. And I know when I have to keep calm and not let the others overwhelm me to finally get what I want. It's a method of small steps. Each of them takes you closer to your aspiration.

'Think about it, Ryder', I persuade him, using the argument that would speak to him. 'Any of us won't lose anything. We can both gain.'

He sighs, still crushing the filter of his ciggy with his teeth, confused. I guess I hit the bull's eye – his parsimony.

'F*ck it, babe', he growls finally. 'I hate making deals with you.'

He probably meant to offend me, but it doesn't work; right now, those words sound like the most beautiful music in my ears. I smirk triumphantly, observing him so angry yet unable to withstand me, knowing that I'm right, despite his wishes to find a crack in my plan. He doesn't even protest when I come closer and take the smoldering cigarette from the ground. He just throws me a sharp look, which I ignore haughtily. I press the snog to my mouth meticulously, as a symbol of claiming my victory, and exhale a big cloud of smoke, finding a perverse pleasure in its choky smell.

I wish Klaus could see me now. He'd notice I learnt something from him. After all the times of observing the mechanism of his tricks, I can mimic them perfectly. And I use this ability very often. One can get addicted easily to the superior feeling they give.

_**13**__**th**__** April 2004, Tuesday, 21:36**_

_**Klaus' Library**_

_**Vienna**_

_**Austria**_

'_Klaus, have you lost it?!', I leaned over the desk when everything that was left from the treasure hunter was a faint odor of his cigarettes. 'What the f*ck was that?!'_

'_A deal', he responded calmly, lounged cozily in his armchair and very pleased with himself._

'_A deal, oh, you don't say!', I ironized, banging my palms against the top. 'You've just sold me to that face-ache! Why on earth didn't you ask me what I think about it?! It's not like the first time, of course', I added scornfully, 'but I thought that maybe you owe something to me after that March mission…'_

'_You are littering', he remarked chillily._

_I threw him a confused look, then peeked at my hands. I hadn't noticed that I had clenched them into fists and tapped them against the desk with so much force that the grayish dirt from the ashtray had gotten spilled around it in a circle._

'_That's not the point!', I shouted, my breath spreading the grayish powder even more. 'I'm not going to treat him like the others! If you think that I'd sleep with him to lull him into a false sense of security and then get your money back…'_

'_Do not worry', he continued in a collected manner. 'You will not have to do anything like that. We will take care of Mr. Ryder… the old-fashioned way.'_

_He pulled a drawer and brought out a small leather cover. He opened it and showed me its inside, overstuffed with black pads. I furrowed my brow, not sure why Klaus showed me an empty box, but then I noticed a faint glimpse of steel. I took a closer look, directing the lamp's light to the cover. Then I saw then: there were three needles attached to the lining. Their tips had a somewhat purplish tint, like wings and body of a fly. _

'_They were soaked in a highly toxic substance', Klaus explained, sliding his fingertips through the metal, avoiding the ends, though. 'I called it Stillbreath. I will keep the composition secret, however, I can assure you that one drop would knock off even a draft horse, let alone a grown-up man.'_

_It took me a while to understand what it meant. And then I exploded._

'_Then why the hell didn't you give me that earlier?!', I yelled, pushing the ashtray onto the floor out of fury. 'If I knew, I'd never have to…'_

'_Stillbreath is not a very suitable truth serum', Klaus interrupted me neutrally. 'The victims are not very talkative once the substance is applied to their veins. They get rather… silent.'_

_I bit my tongue not to say that that was the only state they should be seen in. I took few deep breaths, trying to drown my anger with them. _

'_So, won't the Professor be angry if we bump him off like that?', I wondered out loud. 'That Ryder guy threatened us as if he was a big thing.'_

'_A big thing!', Klaus chuckled, patting his knee. 'Oh no, my dear, he is just a mere nobody. No more than an errand boy. The Professor will not even notice his disappearance. Even if so, he values me… and you', he nodded to me flatteringly, 'too much to pay attention to that little… quirk.'_

_He drew the needle from the holster and handed it to me._

'_Just one. Keep an eye on it', he warned me. 'You will not have a second chance to eliminate him.'_

_I raised the gift to the faint light of the only lamp. It was no longer than my little finger; easy to hide in the sleeve, insignificant, yet powerful enough to knock off an adult guy with one shot. Just like me. _

'_I won't need it', I convinced Klaus, observing the needle's glow with fascination. 'Certainly.'_

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 15:57**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

I smoke the ciggy as fast as I can, at the same time trying not to look in a hurry. I don't want Ryder to notice how much I want to go searching for the others right now, yet I shouldn't put the bantering with him over finding Dante… and Scarlet, though not necessarily. I feel torn apart between those two urges and even the snog doesn't help me ease that tension. Damn, sometimes my acting goes too far. I hope Ryder would be the first one to turn up the tempo, as he is worried of his payment. However, he seems to be taking his revenge, suddenly losing interest in me. He turns around and crouches to the sack he dropped before.

'So', I say with overdone friendliness (f*ck, it's so hard to address him in such a voice, given everything he's done to me, but no choice…), looking at his hunched back, 'as we're going to be partners, maybe it's a good time to complete our knowledge about each other. After all, we haven't seen each other in three years.'

'It's not me who disappeared without a sign', he grumbles, lifting the sack from the ground.

'Why are you here?', I ask him directly, ignoring that comment. I'd rather not dwell into the reasons of my departure; he knows the basics already, that's enough.

'Constructing a new Challenger, isn't that obvious?', he ironizes, not even looking at me, but I know for sure he wonders if he should have continued the talk or ignore me for the rest of the time spent together due to his pride. After all, he's not used to being bossed around nor questioned by a woman. Born a sexist and not corrected until now (and he's already 28!), he sees every female as a brainless object created only to entertain men and fulfill their needs. However, he knows that his beliefs fail him in my presence. I proved many times that when it comes to independence, decisiveness and perseverance, I could easily compete with the most manly man. When he peeks at me, I still glare at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes and then reaches for something to the floor.

'See those?', he tosses an item in his hand; in the dimness, it resembles a metal cup embodied with intricate ornaments. More findings surround Ryder's combat boots in a puddle of golden gleam. 'I have to deliver them to the Organization. They will take care of the rest.'

He collects the goods from the floor neglectfully, in a hurry, but it's enough of time to let me take a closer look at the loot. Most of the pieces resemble ritual implements, tools, utensils, in a nutshell, all the stuff usually put in the graves by the ancient tribes as gifts for the dead ones for 'the last journey'.

'Why do they need it for?', I investigate, not sure if I really need that info; I just want to keep the conversation going.

'Dunno', he shrugs, tying the ropes and flinging the bag over his shoulder. 'Not my business. It's probably another order from one of those fanatic collectors. They pay every price to have something the others don't. Poor fags', he spits at the ground, then turns around and sinks into one of the corridors.

'Yet you still work for them', I mock him, throwing the butt onto the ground and crushing it with my heel. 'Doesn't it make you a fag as well? Like, an errand boy?', I catch up with him, following the clatter of the goods in his sack rather than relying on my sight, as everything is drown in the darkness.

'Nope', he chuckles, not very moved by my remark, making his way forward as if he knew perfectly where to go. 'I don't work for them, just for their money. That's quite a difference. And I prefer calling me _a highly trained tracker_.'

I snarl. The same old Ryder. Seeking every excuse to justify his greed and thinking he's cunning.

'And, who's the one talking, by the way?', he peeks at me. 'Are you still a special something, high above the others? Yet chasing every prey Klaus points you at like a faithful bitch on his leash?', he gives me a taste of my own medicine.

'Don't push the point', I warn him. 'Mind what you're talking about. It is a mission from the Professor himself, a special task which can turn the tables in advantage of the Organization.'

'Yet it doesn't change the goal', he shrugs, making the items clank out loud; he freezes for a moment, listening out, but I don't think he'd attract anyone's attention. The hosts doesn't seem to mind loud passers-by, kheh. 'Chasing after some pussy, playing hares and hounds like brats… What an idea? It sounds troublesome, dragging and unexciting, like a boring theatre play.'

'Quite a good description', I admit gloomily. 'A diva like me shouldn't bother herself with such a pitiful spectacle, especially surrounded by such low-class actors…'

'Yeah, that's another point', he remarks. 'Why only that coochy is your target? As far as I know, you're travelling with the Lambert's brat and a Casterwill girl.'

'Don't remind me', I mutter. 'I'd love to blow Sophie's fiery nut away… But she and the wimp aren't a threat. I always wonder how the hell Lok managed to reach the age of fifteen if he'd be able to kill himself stepping on a rake.'

Ryder lets out a short chuckle.

'Well, that explains much. But damn, why do they piss their pants about that Vale guy?', Ryder wonders. 'He didn't seem any better. Is he really that dangerous?', he asks me, waiting for my opinion.

I fall silent for a moment, surprised by his question. Is Dante dangerous?

My answer varies. Few weeks before, I'd vote no for sure. Since I found his old photo in the database, I knew he couldn't be called a cruel brute exactly. I don't know, maybe I took him lightly 'cause he looked like such a damn softie then, probably just out of some university, with smooth face, no beard, his hair shorter yet as messy and a small smile playing somewhere on his lips though the rest of his face tried to keep serious…

My thoughts didn't verify much after I happened to know him better. I saw that he can kick asses and whack somebody's mug if needed, but… His fighting mode and everyday attitude are so distant! It's almost impossible to relate a panther-like swiftness, dexterity and accuracy with calm, collected and joyful demeanor he expresses casually. It's just as if I was watching two different people, the combative one – a complete stranger, an action hero from a TV series.

As I spend with him also the time between various important tasks and spectacular fights, when he is so concentrated and immersed in the jobs, I focus mostly on the self he shows to his friends and allies during the off-duty hours. I tend to forget that he's the Foundation number one Seeker as I learn more about his weaknesses and flaws. I pay so much attention to his lame duster and creepy greenish sunglasses, his blunders and mistakes, the way he clears his throat in embarrassment and furrows his brow when he's preoccupied - all those small signs of him being a normal, quite a hopeless male case - that I probably can't be scared of him at all. I've never really thought about the reasons. Maybe because I have never faced him as an enemy? That I feel immune knowing he treats me like a teammate and won't turn his abilities against me?

However, I observed many times how people react to his sudden demonstrations of power. I remember clearly that time when he captured DeFoe, brought him to his minions like a rag doll and forced them all to retreat on the Argo. There was something in his posture, voice and stare that made everyone take him very seriously and step back from this lone operative, as if he was surrounded by a force field ripping the bruisers off their strength and confidence. Even I felt the strike coming out him like an electricity shooting through all of us. It wasn't the kind of supremacy the Professor emits, intimidating, overwhelming and paralyzing. It was something… deeper… more complex than simple fear. More like… authority?

I guess I didn't give it a second thought 'cause I've never found Dante scary myself. I probably should… After all, I'm one of them, his enemies, even if he doesn't know this. But strangely, I don't expect him to cause any problem for me. Of course I don't see him as a person accosted as easy target by street robbers, even at night – they'd have to lack some screws if they dared to attack such a tall, well-built and muscular lad – but he's also not the one who would frighten me in a dark alley. Not with that sane, serene attitude of his and his strong need to protect everyone rather than hurt them. He creates a strange aura of safety and support around him. Yet he's not only a severe sentinel fulfilling a hard mission of guarding humanity, just a good-humored, caring guy arising friendly feelings and admiration, with a pleasant smile and… that special spark in his bright, emphatic eyes. Both gentle, yet confident and stern. Like a fire which can either warm or burn to ashes.

How can I explain all those aspects to Ryder, who thinks that a real strong man has to be all muscles, eats just steaks for every dinner, drinks beer every evening and treats everybody around like a scum?

'Don't underestimate him', I advise him, trying to get to him the way he'd understand. 'You know, he beat DeFoe…'

'DeFoe was not a hard player, though', Ryder chuckles again, very amused of my argument, as if it only proved his beliefs. I am about to start a clash, but something else than Ryder's disregard catches my attention.

'Was?', I raise my eyebrows. 'What do you mean by: 'was'?'

'Don't you know?', he peeks at me. 'He was found dead in his laboratory. Smothered. Strangely, Grier disappeared the same day…', he adds meaningfully. 'The Suits are searching for him, but seems he sunk underground. No trace.'

Oh, yeah. I lower my eyes not to let him notice a change in my eyes. I know where their target could be. But I agreed with Dante to keep it secret… What should I do? I guess I wouldn't harm anyone if I spilled the beans. The Professor would wipe the traitor off existence thanks to my help, what would raise my status even more… Dante also shouldn't mind having Grier eliminated. After all, the goon is his enemy, right? However…

'What's up?', Ryder breaks my desperate mind battle. 'Feeling pity for the poor old DeFoe?'

'No kidding', I shake my head. 'I doubt anyone misses that crazy fag. They should rather honor Grier with a badge or something for getting rid of that pebble.'

'This Vale guy didn't manage to do so', Ryder remarks, nodding. 'Seems like his fame is exaggerated, after all. I bet I'd win over him with ease.'

'Don't underestimate him', I murmur, a bit uneasy with the sudden change of the topic. 'You could be surprised.'

Ryder falls silent, shrugging, yet his face tells exactly that he thinks just like that and isn't going to take it back, just doesn't want to lower himself to the brain level of a creature with vagina and a small brain which gets impressed by mere tricks. He searches any way to take a small revenge on me. He has his reasons. I guess that since we met, my free-spirited feministic ideas had been quite a pain in the ass for a men chauvinist like him. But I don't regret it. He deserved that.

_**15**__**th**__** April 2004, 12:54**_

_**Flughafen Wien Airport**_

_**Vienna**_

_**Austria**_

'_Here he is', Klaus gritted his teeth, looking through the smoked car windows and seeing Ryder waiting for me on the airport; of course, with a cigarette stuck to his mouth. 'Filthy robber!'_

'_Don't panic, I'll get the money back', I assured Klaus, sitting next to him and collecting my things in preparation to leave, though I didn't really have a fancy to do so._

'_Just wait until he gets the ordered goods. I do not want to pay twice for the same thing', he reminded me sharply._

'_Have I ever failed you?', I asked him, trying to calm him down… and (I would never admit that then) to hear a kind word before my departure._

_The man gave me a strict look._

'_Well, there were a few occasions', the man accentuated, his chapped lips pursed. 'Better do not disappoint me this time.'_

_I swallowed the letdown and left the car with only an inarticulate goodbye. I doubted he had answered me, though I felt his glare on my back when I was approaching Ryder, flinging my backpack over my shoulder. I winced when I finally stood close enough for the cloud of smoke to reach me. Ryder did the same, noticing me. It didn't help his face. He looked as ugly as two days before and the spring sun only accentuated every flaw of his appearance, especially the ironic grimace playing on his lips._

'_Six minutes before the meeting hour, sur-f*cking-prise!', he exclaimed without any greeting, even residual. 'My thanks, I expected a longer wait. And only one bag!', he peeked at my back (and took advantage on the moment to slide his eyes down where my spine ended, huh). 'I was worried the plane wouldn't manage to set off with your luggage in the hold.'_

'_Very funny', I gave him a heavy stare. 'I guess that your knowledge about women comes from cheesy jokes and lame sitcoms.'_

'_And all the descriptions fit you perfectly', he cut back. 'You're a typical TV drama teenage sulker with badly-written lines which were supposed to be funny. But don't worry, you make up for them with your pretty face, babe', he added negligently._

'_I recommend you not to repeat that', I warned him. 'I don't care what you think about me, but I won't stand treating me like a make-weight to your imagined awesomeness. I'm not here as a decoration, I'm just gonna do my job. And quick', I accentuated strongly._

'_I prefer quickies too', he gave me a meaningful glare and moved his brows, then fixed his backpack and headed to the check-in._

'_Your hand must be skilled, then', I murmured under my breath, not really thinking he'd hear that. But he did. He threw me a sharp stare._

'_What?', I shrugged. 'No normal woman would agree to go to bed with you.'_

'_Every woman is easy when you have enough money', he said with certainty._

'…_said a man buying a rubber doll', I completed the sentence mockingly._

_His expression – dropped jaw, widened eyes and unintelligent gaze - was priceless. I felt a tingle of pride in my stomach. I flung my backpack onto my shoulder and started to whistle out of satisfaction, walking through the airport more energetically. Seemed that trip could be a fun after all._

_**The same day, 23:49**_

_**Yeovil  
**_

_**Somerset County  
**_

_**England**_

_**The United Kingdom**_

'_Damn those airlines', Ryder exhaled, lounging on the chair and sliding down until his ass barely kept its seat. 'Three delayed flights, the whole day gone to waste…' _

_And he was the one talking! I was the one sentenced to listening to his nagging, observing him fidgeting with the lighter and forced to be a victim of his raising anger, as if I was the one to blame for all the troubles. I knew sailors believed women to bring misfortune, but I wouldn't accept stupid d*cks pushing all the responsibility to my sex. Luckily, my period was far behind me and my patience had its ups, otherwise I'd be arrested for murdering Ryder in the broad daylight._

_I passed by his backpack thrown in the center of the room, omitting it like something disgusting in kind of a mouse corpse, and put my luggage under the wall. Then I drew my toilet utensils out and headed to the bathroom, but I froze on the doorstep. Ouch. I decided to skip the shower. I didn't want to come back home with fungal infection after entering that neglected cabin. I even took my hand off the door handle with repulsion, closing the door with a kick. I sat at the bed, feeling strange and dirty. I hated the missions forcing me to abandon basic sanitation. I couldn't avoid the difficulties completely when I was, for example, in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, but being ripped off a bath in England?! It seemed ridiculous. Ryder didn't seem to have problems with that, though. He peeked at me, keeping untying his shoes. Sitting on the bed. ON MY BED. Oh wait. On OURS. There wasn't a second one._

'_You could tell me it'd be a survival camp', I barked at him. 'A stinky toilet, an only bed… What is that supposed to mean?!'_

'_Sorry, princess', he smirked, kicking the bovver boots off his feet. 'I told your old man that I only work alone. I'm not gonna change my economical ways for an additional passenger. I don't have money for your fancies.'_

_Well, I guess Klaus hadn't bothered to negotiate some exemptions from that rule. I snarled, jerking my head up pridefully. _

'_Not my problem anyway. It's not me who'd sleep on the floor.'_

'_Me neither', he answered with a mean spark in his eyes. 'Don't mistake me with a gentleman.'_

_It took me a moment before I understood what he meant._

'_Oh no', I pointed my index finger at him. 'If you think that it'll discourage me and send me back home, you're terribly mistaken. I'm not here to relax. It's my job.'_

_I threw my blouse off my upper body, staying only in my plain top. I wondered if it'd be a good idea to take my trousers off; I decided to keep them on. Then I slid under the quilt, expecting the night to be rather chilly. And to separate myself from Ryder completely, showing him my back. _

_He let out a short, hoarse chuckle, not taking his eyes off me as I made myself comfortable. _

'_See?', he muttered with amusement. 'Women do enter my bed willingly.'_

'_Of course, if you always scrimp on twin rooms', I cut back. _

_He fell silent for a moment. I felt the mattress undulating as he moved on it._

'_Damn, don't be such a high muckamuck', he muttered, approaching me. 'You're quite a cool girl, why ruining it with such fads?'_

_I ignored him, curling on the sheets and staring at the dark sky, barely visible through the stained windowpanes._

'_You know', he murmured in quite a different tone, turning left and leaning over me, 'we both could relax a bit.'_

'_I try', I growled at him, 'but you keep yapping.'_

'_I meant…', he cleared his throat, and it happened surprisingly close to my ear, 'together.'_

_At first, I couldn't believe that I felt his touch on my belly. I froze, thinking it was just my imagination or that it was just the edge of the quilt smoothing my navel. But then I felt his hand raising my top and climbing up to my breasts. Just like that. As if it was normal and natural. As if I was his property._

_It was not that I hadn't expected that. I had been a victim of such advances since I grew boobs and got an hourglass-like figure. But… it had never gone far, cut before it had really started. However, then it had been right after that night in March when I could do nothing but accept everything that happened to me like a mute, disabled, supine, helpless. I didn't want to feel like that ever again._

_I caught his hand halfway. _

'_Take it off', I demanded coldly, 'or I'll make you.'_

_I would never forget his reaction._

_He smiled widely and then laughed out loud, not going to do anything with his hand on my belly – apart from pawing me without restraint._

'_Hell, girl', he said confidently. 'Just put those games aside. Do you think I don't know why your old man chose you to accompany me instead of one of his minions? Everyone knows what 'skills' make you so famous. I'd have never agreed to take you if I didn't expect some… benefits from that. You don't have to play so hard-to-get…'_

_Ryder didn't end the sentence; it got drowned by a piercing hiss when I jerked up, caught his thumb and twisted it hard._

'_Don't you dare repeating that', I warned him, turning to him and screwing his arm even more powerfully, pressing it to his back and then pushing his head to the mattress. 'If you do, I promise you'll have a chance to walk in women's shoes. I'll turn you into a lady faster than your cock gets stiff', I added, hearing his bones cracking loudly. I had to control myself not to break it; he'd need it during the search. However, I knew how to make someone suffer without causing serious, lasting damage – Klaus', a human anatomy expert, school. 'I don't give a damn what you expected from me, but I'm not here to let you have fun on lonely nights. Understood?'_

_He couldn't answer as pain was contorting his face in a grimace and the bedding kept him throttling. I loosened my grip a bit, but not enough to let him slip away. _

'_Now, say it', I demanded firmly. 'Say that you will keep your hands close to your own butt only. And don't try to force your way on me or I'll chop your arm off to the shoulder.'_

'_Damn you', he uttered, getting yellowish from pain. 'You're a fricking virgin or what?'_

_I chuckled bitterly, letting go off him. He couldn't have taken a worse aim. _

'_Oh yeah', I looked right into his eyes as he tried to get a grip on himself, panting hard. 'As if it was an only excuse.'_

_We sized each other up for a long, dragging moment. I tensed, expecting him not to accept the refusal so obediently, as his eyes flashed as if he had dreamt only of gouging mine out._

_However, he just let out a loud breath and fell onto the mattress, still massaging his knuckles._

'_I think somebody should give you a right spanking and make you unwind a bit', he judged, examining his hand, clenching and loosening for maybe a minute, then, as he judged everything was alright, placing both arms under his head. 'But your choice. Keep selling tickets to enter your pussy of gold', he murmured, staring at the ceiling. I kept an eye of him, suspecting him of some nasty trick hidden in the sleeve, but he just bent his legs and froze, apparently finding a right position. I hesitated for a moment if I should have trusted his passive response, then lowered my head to the pillow, but still couldn't believe he had given up so quickly. I wasn't mistaken. There was a reason._

'_Maybe someday', he said vainly after five minutes when I started to think he had really fallen asleep, 'I'd be able to afford the access.'_

'_I wouldn't screw with a minger like you even if they paid me a million!', I burst out, showing my teeth like a wild cat, ready to bite, scratch and tear apart if he had tried to come any closer. _

_He just raised his brow doubtfully, quite oblivious to the reasons of my anger. I had to calm down not to gnaw at his throat. I quickly reminded myself of the needle hidden in my clothes. _

_Just few days more._

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 16:47**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

'This way', Scarlet whispered vehemently, marching through another empty corridor. 'This is the right place, there's no doubt.'

Dante just nodded automatically. It was already the fifth time Byrne said so. He started to get used to such assurances, but he couldn't say anything not to rip Scarlet off the hope that pushed her through.

However, when the tunnel mouth they entered ended with a plain, smooth slab, he didn't have to voice the obvious conclusion. She understood it herself. She gave out a choked shout and pressed her fingers to the stone, pushing it hardly and banging into it as if she couldn't believe it was material and touchable; as if she expected it to be an illusion created only to trick her rational thinking. However, the rock was too stable and unmovable to be just a fake vision.

'That's impossible', she uttered. 'That's just… I… I have no clue… I was sure that…'

Then her just-recovered attitude, already with weak fundaments, completely cracked. She cried out and fell down like a cut flower; she slid down the wall, curling into a small, trembling bundle. She hid her face in her hands, her voice was drowned with tears bubbling in her throat. She sobbed, wiping off her nose.

'I can't do that', she shook her head desperately, then pressed her forehead to her knees. 'I… tried… but… I'm sorry, I don't know where to go… It seemed so simple on the map, but…'

Dante didn't say anything; he couldn't force himself to repeat over again sentences like 'Don't worry', 'Everyone can make mistakes', 'Just try one more time'… Those pretty lies just couldn't go through his throat for like a millionth time ; they weren't spells, they wouldn't change the reality. Both of them knew the truth which didn't need to be spoken: They were screwed.

Vale also sank onto the ground, tilting his head back and furrowing his brow in hope it could ease the pain in his temples. It didn't work, so he leaned forward, placing both hands on his knees and breathing slowly which was supposed to help him collect his thoughts. However, there was nothing to collect; his mind seemed empty, washed out of every notion by a dull feeling of exhaustion, both emotional and physical. He hated that unusual state which caught him only when certain reasons occurred. He could stand much, but he had lost a comrade… no, that was unbearable…

He hid his face in both hands. He wished Zhalia was there, blaming them for all the commotion, venting her anger at Scarlet, throwing her bitter 'I told you so earlier', proving her superiority and cleverness, making cutting remarks about her perceiving things further than an experienced investigator… but instead, he didn't even know if she was alive. She could as well need help. Maybe she was suffering alone, numb, unable to move forward, lost in the darkness; perhaps right behind the wall, yet he couldn't reach her…

He clenched his teeth so tightly that he feared they'd fall out their places. That f*cking uncertainty which only gave him false hope and lengthened his suffering! No, he wouldn't surrender to it. He had to find Zhalia no matter what. He would give up only if he discovered a proof that there was no chance for her to survive. He hadn't, so he wasn't going just to sit there and lament over something which hadn't been certified! She could be alright. She wasn't a type of person who would just lie and wait for death to come not seeing any obvious way out. She was used to working alone and counting only on her abilities… She'd rather push through, with anger, ferocity and perseverance, like she always did. She'd even wake up the dead and annoy them to the point that they'd throw her away their house themselves rather than let herself join them.

He got up; Scarlet looked at him with wet eyes.

'Stand up', he said firmly. 'We're not gonna rot here.'

'What can we do?', she mumbled. 'We got lost. The map is not actual anymore, as the cave-in buried most of the tunnels.'

'There's always a way out', he said strictly, taking her hand and pulling her up. 'Sometimes it just takes a while to find it. Maybe we're close. I'm not resign if we might be just a meter away from the exit. Let's go', he encouraged her.

She stood up obediently and followed him as he returned to the chamber with seven corridors. They had already checked five, so… there were two left. He came into the sixth one and crossed it quickly, despite his body protesting against any effort and urging him to stop fighting against all odds. He ignored it; his organism didn't lead his actions, it was just a tool to achieve his goals and he could steer it the way he wanted, not the other way round. He had to be strong enough to share his power with Scarlet. His will seemed to be an only source of energy that kept her going. If she noticed he started to shake, she would never force herself to act. Sometimes being somebody's idol, even involuntarily, had its pluses.

He crossed most of the distance in cautious steps, however, he hurried up seeing an oval place which suddenly ended in an angular, untidy wall. It didn't resemble the rest of the stones; the carvings didn't create any particular ornament, just looked like messed puzzles in which the shapes didn't fit each other. Dante's face brightened when he understood that they got to the other side of the rubble created by the explosion. If Zhalia got separated from them, she landed there for sure!

He let go off Scarlet, thought she tried to keep his hand in her pincer-like grip, and started to look for any traces of Zhalia's presence. Much to his relief, there weren't any drops of blood around, which meant that either operative Moon shielded herself with Armorbrand or found a natural shelter. However, she had certainly left it some time ago and went who knew where. What if they passed each other by? That would be a nasty joke from fate…

However, it wouldn't be unnatural for fate to play with him a dirty game and giving him disturbing clues. For example, those burnt markings embodied with grime didn't resemble holes left by the falling stones, rather fire bullets… But why? Zhalia wasn't a person who would lose control over her spells and, for example, let Raypulse fly around the cavern like a rubber ball bouncing against the walls. Suddenly Dante knelt down so abruptly that he hit his knees painfully; massaging them, he lifted a small yellowish pipe from the ground, right next to a large boulder.

'We might not be alone', he whispered piercingly to his comrade, showing her his finding. It probably looked like a tube before, but now, crushed and dirtied by gray ash, resembled a flat strip rather.

'What's that?', Scarlet seemed way more puzzled than understandable.

'A cigarette stub', Dante explained, a bit irritated as the answer seemed obvious to him.

'But how?', she asked him, still clueless. 'How did it get there?'

Dante put all the effort not to roll his eyes with impatience. Any of them didn't smoke, he also didn't expect the inhabitants to be addicted, so there was only one believable answer he could think of.

'He, that Organization goon', Vale added to make things clear, 'was there as well.'

_There, with Zhalia!, _his brain screamed.

His blood froze in his veins for a moment, then started to pump twice faster, especially flowing through his temples and causing a throbbing pressure on his nerves.

_No blood, _he reminded himself. _There is no blood._

_Bruises can be as painful as bleeding injuries, _his subconciousness mocked him cruelly, _even if they don't leave traces on the surroundings._

Dante took a deep breath and jerked up, then threw the butt away with disgust. He snapped his fingers, making Scarlet twitch with fear, but she calmed down a bit when she saw that he had only created a spark to ignite the butt.

_If he did something to Zhalia, _Dante thought furiously, observing how the cigarette end fell apart and turned into ashes, _I promise_ _that bastard will end up just like this stub. No one hurts my comrades. No one. _

He felt new strength arising in his cells as he made such decision. He swept the floor with his duster as he headed into one of the halls, not looking back.

'Where're you going?!', Byrne asked, pressing both hands to her chest and knitting her eyebrows in fright.

'Follow me', he ordered Scarlet, surprised by his own indomitable tone. 'I will find the way out for all of us, even if I will have to bite through the stones or dig another passage!'

Byrne stared in the darkness, afraid of the dangers that might be hidden there, but she didn't want to be left behind either. She caught up with him soon. He threw her a short stare and nodded, approving of her decision.

'Stay close', he advised her.

She took advantage of that proposition and plastered to him, catching him by the elbow. Dante winced a bit; he didn't mean being THAT close. He wanted to shake her hands off, but as he moved it, she just tightened the grip. He gritted his teeth quietly; good thing she couldn't see his face right then. Dante felt like a cripple when he had to pull that unnecessary load. However, if there wasn't any other way to keeping moving forward… He wondered if he should have told her to loosen the grip, as it was restraining him a little, which could make counterattack inconvenient if there would be such a necessity. And he felt it would. He had waited for it the whole time. He couldn't believe the Organization goon would give up so easily an opportunity to gain some fame by eliminating two Huntik operatives. If he had been so willing to cause an explosion, who knows what lengths he was able to cross to achieve his twisted goals?

However, he wasn't afraid of the raider's aspirations. He even looked forward to their meeting. He would force him to drop everything he had stolen from the tomb and give him out to the Foundation… Additionally, if he did something to Zhalia, he'd first have to go through Dante's program of redeeming his crimes. And then spend some time in the hospital before getting jailed for the rest of his life.

Dante stretched his shoulders a bit, fighting with the adrenaline awakening in his body by those appealing thoughts. Then he focused on the path, determined to cross it even if he was forced to crawl the whole way.

He reminded himself he had to keep cool if he wanted to succeed. Fulfilling his primitive instincts wasn't the most important matter now. He couldn't say that imagining the persecutor who separated them from Zhalia locked or taking a walk only on a prison yard wasn't pleasant, however, there would be time for administering justice. For sure.

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 17:20**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

As we descend into the lower parts of the tomb, I keep having a strange feeling that I hurried up with counting on Ryder's infallible sense of direction. We've been weaving our way through the maze like two blind mice for – as I checked on the phone - almost two hours, and still didn't make any notable progress. I wonder if I should act like Donkey in Shrek 2 and ask Ryder 'Are we there yet?' every five minutes to make him finally inform me why it is taking so long. And maybe discover if he needs a hand. I may not be as proficient as him in location spells, but I've got something he doesn't: a woman's intuition.

I laughed noiselessly to myself. Yeah. Ryder asking for help out of his own free will. And choosing a woman as his support. Of course. Just after I'll undergo a sex change operation and get asked out by Ricky Martin. Ryder's not that type of guy. He'd rather cling to every plan he invented himself, even if it doesn't make any sense right from the start, than admit something is beyond his reach or abilities.

_**18**__**th**__** April 2004, 12:11**_

_**Cadbury Castle**_

_**Somerset County  
**_

_**England**_

_**The United Kindgom**_

'_Only a day left', I reminded Ryder, observing the hill fort's interior with boredom and crossing my arms on my chest. 'Only a day and Klaus wouldn't pay you one red cent.'_

'_Turn yourself down or I will do that, damn it', he mumbled, not even looking at me, just examining the Gobelin tapestry. 'I'm already fed up with you. All you do is snapping your mouth and clenching to me like a flea. I didn't insist on you to go', he shrugs. 'Blame your old man instead.'_

'_He's the one settling the conditions', I mocked him. 'So better don't mess up with me or you won't see even a penny when I tell on you.'_

'_Oh yeah, a born tattletale', he snarled, throwing me a disapproving stare. 'Geez, why did I agree to take you?'_

'_Maybe 'cause you expected me to warm your bed', I smirked to him, 'taking me for an easy bimbo? I hoped that my little… rap on the knuckles talked you out of such outlooks', I sighed. 'What a shame. Seems you still want to have your arm broken', I underlined, reminding him of our first night together. _

'_Shut the f*ck up, I'm trying to concentrate', he growled, furrowing his brow and losing half of his pep. The lesson I had given him worked. He hadn't done more than telling dirty jokes since then. I guessed he had tried to make up for the shame I had caused him by treating me like a silly prune, but I just waved it off, not moved by that efforts to regain his male pride. I also started to feel more confident around him, not paying attention to his overwhelming detest for women's self-appraisal._

'_And it doesn't lead to anything', I shrugged, throwing him a superior stare. 'We're just wandering around the whole England for four days, rummaging through stinky tombs, musty underground labyrinths and ruined chambers, sticking our noses in every hole and not achieving anything.'_

'_It's not so easy to find the real Camlann', he explained, gritting his teeth when he tried to move one of the stones, in case it could have opened a secret passage. 'There are many places thought to be the location of King Arthur's final battle', he stuck his tongue out, struggling with the brick. 'At least my informers told me so. I'm checking every possibility.'_

'_However, it drags a lot. I guess that your gray matter isn't used to such a hard work', I smirked meanly. 'Need help?'_

'_Sorry, babe, but brains don't seem to be your main asset neither', he cut back. 'I'll call you if I'd need a pretty ass.' _

'_Your choice, but you'll regret it soon. Your time is running out… Tick-tock, tick-tock', I bantered with him, moving my finger left and right like a clock hand. However, he shot me a stare that warned me that if I went further, he'd crack my skull like a walnut, as he regarded it the least useful part of my body. I winced, but when he turned back, I poked my tongue at him. Then, I took a seat in a nook in the wall, as I expected the search to drag. I made myself comfortable, whistling tunelessly just to annoy him. He winced, but didn't say a word of reproof, pretending not to hear the spurious melody. However, louder I whistled, more chaotic his searching was getting. He circled around the room, looking for any hint where to find the entrance to the lower area, but finally, he just leaned both hands on the wall and lowered his head._

'_Aren't you really gonna give me a hand if I don't beg you?', he asked pressingly._

_I blinked innocently, fluttering my lashes like a clueless dolly bird._

'_Me?', I said with exaggerated surprise. 'A hand? No, no way! After all, only my ass is useful enough, isn't it? Call me if you'd need it', I mocked him, flashing my eyes meanly._

_He snarled, giving me a sharp stare, but seemed confused by my response. He hadn't expected me to refuse him, had he? Well, he had been mistaken for the second time already. Guess he had always achieved everything too easily. Sorry, goofball, not everything appertained you._

'_Alright', he straightened up and approached me. 'Come on. We're leaving.'_

'_What're you doing?!', I barked as he pulled me by the arm to the main hall._

'_If we can't find a secret entrance', he said, coming down the stairs to the basement level, 'we're gonna make one.'_

_I felt the troubles coming the moment he drew out a payload._

Wait… I hope he's not going to repeat the scheme ONCE AGAIN.

'Ryder', I address him, 'do you know where to find the other exit?'

He peeks at me, surprised that I'm not sulking and speak up first.

'Why all of the sudden?', he turns back, remembering that he has to watch the way. 'Afraid you made the deal too fast without checking my skills, scaredy-cat? Geez, you're getting more and more like your old man.'

'Nope', I murmur, a bit resentful; how can he compare me to a homely geezer like Klaus? 'I just don't want you to do something stupid and make this scaredy-cat save the day again, like… like in England.'

'But you like me too much not to trust me, don't you?', he banters with me, I hear clearly that special timbre in his voice which he has used since we met. However, I'm not a teenager anymore and I want him to notice that, just as much as I did before. Though fuelled by more serious reasons.

'Don't flatter yourself!', I mumble, observing his wide back. 'It's a fifty-fifty deal, isn't it? I'm not giving you out to the Foundation, you're getting me out the tomb. A fair trade. I have no reasons to doubt your rationality', my tongue gallops pell-mell, I'm unable to stop it even if I try to, hearing that my excuses start to sound too far-fetched. 'If you won't fulfill your conditions, I won't feel obliged to keep you covered anymore…'

'As you like it', he interrupts that blether finally, shrugging and still smiling meanly.

He peeks at me meaningfully and I can't resist his stare. I lower it at my feet, pretending that I'm just cautious not to trip over. What does he think, that he'll play those dirty games with me again? I know him too well to be impressed by his cheap shots at women. Especially knowing what happens next, when he shows them his hand.

Suddenly I bump into Ryder's back, hitting my nose against his jersey. I rub it, humming angrily, not very satisfied by that unexpected contact. I'd rather stay as far from him as I can.

'What's up?', I ask him sharply.

'A dead end', he murmurs, observing the walls. 'Hell, how come?'

'Bravo, genius', I mumble, though it doesn't sound quite as mean as I intended 'cause I find my thoughts stuck on the impression that his jersey still smells of the same deodorant, a bit shaded by the scent of his sweat. Which doesn't mean it stinks, though… at least not for me.

'I was there before, there must be an exit', he shakes his head, examining the cave. 'See? There's a hole up there', he comes up some stones and shows me a slit in the pile. 'Probably the rubble covered the tunnel mouth.'

'Then we'll just have to clean it', I shrug. 'I have my slaves for such jobs.'

I rummage through my sack and finally feel the curved spikes under my fingers. I draw the amulet out; the mat surface reflects my face faintly. Ryder notices the talisman in my grip and his face lightens up suddenly as reaches his open hand. I gap a bit realizing that he shows me an identical gem, like a mirror image – the spikes, the shape, everything fitting perfectly.

'So, you still have it, huh?', he murmurs, raising his stare at me and looking directly into my eyes for the first time since we met again. I have a chance to notice that unusual fulvous edge adorning his plainest rust-brown irises. There's a spark igniting them to a flame-like color… which warms the pit of my stomach in a manner that alarms me.

He sends me that famous half-smirk of his; not the one full of irony and scorn, but more amused, lightening his face and completely changing its expression. I suddenly find myself speechless. I just move my mouth like a fish drawn out the water, feeling warmth coming up my cheeks. And, uh… _thighs_. I shake that feeling off, ashamed by my stupid thoughts that this smirk makes him almost handsome. Almost is quite a big difference, after all…

'Just like the old days', he comments in a voice even more raspy than usual.

I know that we recalled exactly the same memory.

_**18**__**th**__** April 2004, Saturday, 12:42**_

_**Cadbury Castle**_

_**Somerset County  
**_

_**England**_

_**The UK**_

'_WHO THE HELL TOLD YOU', I yelled, scorching through the tunnel, 'THAT DETONATING A BOMB WOULD SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS?!'_

'_The merchant I bought the device from', he choked out, running beside me in heavy leaps, 'he said those are completely safe in usage…'_

'_SAFE IN USAGE, DAMN IT!', I chuckled like crazy, feeling my lungs burning. I guess a half of that fire was leaving my body with all the words I screamed out. 'YOU TURNED THE CHAMBER INTO F*CKING RUINS, ALMOST KILLING US!'_

'_Don't exaggerate it, the hole turned out quite neat…', he defended himself._

'_TELL IT THOSE CRAZY BLACK KNIGHTS CHASING US SINCE WE WOKE THEM UP!'_

_I pointed at the two Titans following us since we had interrupted their stillness by blowing their nest away. Ryder peeked above his shoulder, measuring the bodies hidden under spiky dark armors, with strange pieces resembling spider's legs protruding on their shoulders and surrounding their helmets. The curved blades, raised above their heads, flashed in the Boltflare's light, guiding us through the halls; the golden dragons on their shields looked way too realistic in that scenery._

'_Think they're immune to being buried under the ceiling?', he asked me, his voice accompanied by a thud of his combat boots and a scrabble of Ratatoskr's claws; the Titan fore-reached us and was checking every tunnel not to let us mindlessly run into a dead end._

'_DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING IT AGAIN, BASTARD!', I cried out, not sure if wasting my breath was the best option yet feeling a desperate urge to let off some steam._

'_Shut up and run, then!', he chided me, pulling me by the elbow. 'I see the light at the end of the corridor!'_

'_BRILLIANT!', I mocked him. 'DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS IN MOST CULTURES?!'_

'_YOU DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW, DAMN IT!', he hoarsed, panting hardly. Listening to his breath resembling a whizz of the steam engine, I realized that he tired even more than me, and blessed the fact that I smoked once in a blue moon._

_We dashed through the arch, where the weasel waited for us, and immediately shut the door; Ryder supported them, bracing himself against the ground, and then I barred them, though lifting a heavy log took some effort._

'_They'll break through in no time', Ryder rasped, bend in half and coughing. _

'_You don't say!', I growled, my heart jumping like crazy from adrenaline. 'I have enough of technical knowledge to know that steel swords can cut the wooden doors with ease!'_

'_Better help me', he pulled himself together and pushed a metal chest to the entrance. I thought that there was no point in resisting just to show him my disapproval of being bossed around. I added a full barrel above the chest, he found some desks more and supported the door. I topped the barricade with a box… We looked at our creation and exchanged content stares, certain it would buy us at least a minute to think of the next step._

_And then the barrier exploded, ruining all our work and sending us onto the floor. Ratatoskr, pushed away by the impact, slid through the chamber and only her claws helped her to stop before she hit the wall. She bristled her fur when the knights entered, hissing like a Tasmanian devil and bowing her back. In a flash, she skittered between their legs and tried to escape to the corridor, but one sling of the blade discharged her with no problem. Ryder winced, catching her energy, a drop of sweat slid through the layer of dust on his face. The Titans approached us; we could only crawl back, praying to die a quick, painless death._

_But hadn't I always been a rebel? Hadn't I always opposed everyone and everything, ever since I had learnt that I could offer something the others want to have and force them to make effort to get it instead of surrendering to them willingly? And hadn't I usually invented a plan to show them that no matter what they did, I was the only person who could predestine the results of the struggle?_

'_GAREON!', I called piercingly._

_One of the knights arched and spread his arms, shot at the back by two green raybeams coming from the eyes of the lizard emerging from nowhere after a long period of invisibility. The gecko-like Titan repeated the blast, and then, seeing the sword approaching him, curled up and rolled aside, then hit from a different angle. It gave us both time to jump onto our feet, however, not enough to make any plans of way out. I saw a flash in the corner of my eye and barely dodged the slash of the second knight; Ryder sent Augerfrost right into the knight's visor. I turned around and added Venomhand to that, knocking him back. I almost fell down when Ryder hit me with his back, forced to back out by Gareon's recent victim who stopped to care for the lizard wandering around his feet and marked us as more interesting targets._

'_What about now, Mr. Not-So-Cheap Tracker?!', I cracked, plastering to him to have my rear covered and observing as the infuriated knights raised from the floor, pissed like hell and ready to chop us into pieces in no time. 'Maybe now you're ready to pick up teamwork with a mere chick?!'_

'_No option!', he shouted back as he swept one knight off his feet and pushed him under the nearest wall with a spell. I snarled and fired Raypulse right at the Titan's chest; it red-heated his armor for a moment, but there was no other sign of any damage. I leaped aside and used Touchram; it worked way more effectively. _

_Next to me, Ryder almost wrestled with the second attacker, relying mostly on hit-and-run method. When the knight started to get irritated by his runaways, he tried to pierce him like a roasted chicken, however, the treasure hunter dodged it and rolled aside, kicking the knight right into his steeled butt and making him fall onto his face. I let out a laugh. It looked ridiculous to see a Titan touching his bum in a human-like manner! Ryder peeked at me and smirked, winking knowingly. My lips twitched, but I held back a smile and shrugged instead, pretending that I didn't give a damn about his show-off and had seen better performances._

_He shook his head and came back to the fight, now changing his tactics to punches and strong kicks; however, even his heavy boots must've felt like pebbles against the sturdy armor._

'_Redcap!', he shouted eventually when his head almost got chopped off his neck. _

_The Titan appeared in front of him and charged at the assaulter, outstretching its long claws. They scratched the breastplate, but didn't reach any further, and when Redcap backed its hand, the claws came off his paw like broken knifes. The black knight pushed it back with one swing of his reinforced gloves and then charged at Ryder again._

'_Armorbrand!', he shouted and the bluish barrier started to raise around him… but before it covered him up to the head, the knight buzzed through the forming power shield and got inside the energy sphere, tearing it from the inside. Ryder choked out a shout when a steeled hand was about to squeeze his neck like a twig. However, the knight's hand didn't reach his throat; it fell down few meters away, ripped off his gauntlet. Both Ryder and the Titan watched it with shock, however, the knight didn't get enough time to understand what was going on as a blast tore him into pieces right away._

_Ryder's jaw dropped as he observed me through the mist left by the disappearing knight as if he couldn't have believed I'd just made a Titan pop out just like that, with one spell._

'_What're ya waiting for?!', I chided him angrily, fighting with a desperate feeling that maybe I overdid it, though I'd love to observe his stunned face a little longer and wallow in pride. 'Get up, there's still one left!'_

_He listened to me and quickly stood beside me; now the tables had turned, we were two on only one attacker. The knight seemed confused and didn't know which one to eliminate first; it tried to kill two birds with one stone, charging right between us in hope to ram us both. We jumped to different sides, then fired spells from left and right. It wasn't enough to defeat the enemy, but immobilized him for long enough to prepare the next move._

'_Strix!', I called the same time when Ryder summoned Enforcer. After the hornets and the monstrous bug finished their job, piercing through the dark armor, the remains of the breastplate looked like a sieve. It fell down along with gauntlets, shin guards, shoulder pads and the helmet which slowly turned into a sparkling dust. Half of it disappeared, but the other half formed a spiky shape. _

_We exchanged stares, but before I made a move, Ryder swept the amulet right before my nose. He raised it and examined closely and too attentively, as if he was trying to irk me. However, when he saw as much as he could have wished for, he threw the amulet to me so suddenly that I barely caught it._

'_Here', he muttered. 'Take it. You deserve it. You were quite a view to see, after all.'_

'_I know', I jerked my head up proudly, squeezing the talisman in my hands. 'You're not the one to distribute the prizes. Besides', I continued as he came to the wall, searching something on the floor, 'you're not doing it out of gratefulness for saving your life.'_

'_Saving my life?!', he repeated, turning to me. 'I was the one to push the knight off you first!'_

'_Yeah, right', I ironized. 'I won't believe in your chivalry. You only gave me that', I showed him the amulet, 'because you knew you would find… this one', I point at the thing he tried to hide in his pocket with the gesture of my head._

_He froze with his hand in his clothes, then sighed and lowered his head._

'_Well, you got me', he murmured, peeking at me. Then he did something I couldn't predict. He smiled to me. Without the spite, disregard nor irony. Kinda… approvingly._

'_Damn, girl', he smacked his lips. 'Maybe your ass isn't your only asset.'_

_And then, though I fought desperately not to show any sign of satisfaction and make him realize I don't care for an opinion of some low-class errand boy, I smiled widely with triumph._

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 17:20**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

When the next hour passed and there still wasn't any sign of Zhalia's presence, Dante felt that soon, there'd be no power that would push them through the maze. His own started to fade away with every empty chamber they were passing through. His keen senses screamed from pain when he urged them to make another damn effort to found just a slight evidence that there might have been the third member of the party, he looked every room up and down, he didn't miss any insignificant detail which could bring him closer to the lost companion, however… there hadn't been any trace of human appearance since they had found the stub. Yet it didn't belong to the person Dante desperately searched for.

Worry and fear caused his body to lose strength faster than usually. He didn't know if he would be able to continue that determined march for much longer. He promised himself he wouldn't resign from searching until he fainted from exhaustion, however, it was too drastic to fulfill. How would it help if he became a lifeless ballast? That way, he wouldn't save Scarlet nor Zhalia… Soon, he would have to rest, no matter how awful that thought seemed. And how impossible. How could he relax? It meant wasting every minute Zhalia spent in the labyrinth, waiting for their arrival…

'Dante…! Come here!'

He shook his head; he couldn't stand the imagination of her voice calling him through the halls with no response, as he was too far away for it to reach him. It only doubled his pain. He wished he could answer her shout, find her and take her away back to the Lamberts' safe house, promising he would never ever ignore her opinion and go on a mission against her will, but… hell, it was too late…

'Dante!', the voice insisted and he realized it was not Zhalia, but Scarlet calling him. He was disappointed like that just few times in his life. 'Take a look over here! I see the light… and, here!', she pointed at her hair. Vale took a closer look and noticed how small strands around her face flowed; it meant…

'The wind is blowing', he remarked. 'There must be a hole it gets through… maybe big enough for us.'

Byrne nodded vigorously, as if that observation refreshed her. They both dashed forward, not paying as much attention at the stones under their feet as their had done before. They ignored the times they almost tripped and crossed the hall in few seconds, then entered an oval chamber. Dante had to cover his eyes; after a long walk through the tomb, they had gotten used to darkness, and now a stream of light was cascading onto them through a round hole in the ceiling – maybe a meter wide - made just above a pedestal with strange ornaments carved on its surface.

'It must be an oblation chamber!', Scarlet recognized; she boldly fought against the pain in her squinted eyes, shot by the sunbeams as well, and came closer to the stone table. 'The smoke was leaving through there', she pointed at the hole. 'It all makes sense!', she laughed, clapping her hands and almost dancing around the chamber. 'We are saved!'

Dante closed his eyes and didn't say anything; he observed Scarlet happiness and couldn't force himself by remarking: _Not all of us yet. _

'Dante!... Dante, please, come!'

He clenched his teeth. Even his mind added to his suffering. He couldn't stand it any longer. He stood on the pedestal and nodded to Scarlet to do the same. Faster they would get out, faster he'd call the Irish Foundation compound to bring help.

_How long would it take for them to get here? How long Zhalia would have to wait for them?... Will she survive that long?..._

'I'll give up a leg-up', he said to Scarlet, trying to drown that inner voice by speaking out loud.

'I can just use Hyperstride', she proposed.

'Conserve your strength', he calmed her down. 'I'm fine with that. You must be light like a feather.'

She gave him a small smile, the first in a while, probably intending to thank him that way for his concern. However, he only felt bitterness seeing it. How could she smile and laugh knowing Zhalia's loss was her fault? At first, he could accept her behavior as a sign of relief after a long tension, but now… it resembled more a cruel mock. He had to bite his tongue not to say anything harmful.

He quickly formed a stirrup from his hands and offered it to her. She stepped onto it and he lifted her up.

And then he heard a painful howl. Not in his mind. All around him. It was coming from one of the tunnels, echoing in the empty space like in a cathedral and turning the voice into a desperate prayer.

He straightened up a bit, forgetting he was Scarlet's only supporting point and any abrupt move would interrupt her equilibrium. She automatically caught some protruding stones not to lose balance, however, he had to embrace her in the waist not to make her slide down and bruise herself harder.

'What's up?!', she asked, looking down and catching shallow breaths due to shock.

'Someone… someone is screaming…', he mumbled, barely able to move his lips as he listened out to the voice, trying to recognize it – and holding Byrne at the same time, in a very uncomfortable position. 'A woman… I can hear her, she's close! It must be Zhalia!', he stated and then raised his stare to meet his companion's gaze, saying firmly: 'You come up', he demanded, lifting her higher. 'Climb a little and you'll make it!'

'What about you?!', she asked in fear, sensing a strange tension in his voice; or maybe it was the expression of his eyes what gave him out?

'I'm gonna try to find Zhalia!', he shouted back, not trying to hide it.

'Dante, that's madness!', she shook her head, bracing herself against the walls. 'You can't stay down here! That man… you cannot face him alone! I saw what he did to you. He won't hesitate to kill you if he bumps into you again!'

'I won't give him a chance!', he panted. 'Don't worry! I will manage!'

'No!', she protested, starting to wriggle in his arms. 'I won't leave you!'

'Get out of here!' he ordered her, gritting his teeth, as her struggles only doubled the effort. 'Once you're up, you'll be able to get help!', he underlined, pushing her up so suddenly that she only squealed and popped out the hole like a cork out the champagne bottle, surprised and unable to stop it.

'Catch the signal and send the red alert to the Foundation! And quick!', he reminded her when she got up from the grass and dashed to the hole again; her contorted face shaded the slit, the afternoon sun was lightening her fiery hair like a torch.

'Dante, you…!', she screamed a second before Vale turned around abruptly and disappeared in the tunnel.

He didn't listen to Scarlet's loud screams, though she was trying to stop him; he tried to turn the noise down in his brain and listen just to that sobbing somewhere in the maze, so weak, faint and insignificant, yet thundering under his skull like drums and trumpets.

**The same day, 17:37**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

Waiting for the Kilthanes to clear the way drags a bit. Seems that the cave-in made more serious damages to the passages than I previously thought. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. It was quite a boom, after all. Guess the ancient Irish people really knew their stuff. However, it seems strange they went such lengths to protect their rituals and worship places. Destroying them so one else would have a chance to possess them? Quite a drastic method of keeping their culture safe… But who am I to judge it? I'm an atheist, after all. The only thing I believe in is my own capability.

My only entertainment is observing how Ryder puffs out small circles of smoke, finding a special pleasure in smelling the clouds. He doesn't even mind a cough which sometimes escapes his mouth. I guess that the reasons for his good mood are: finding an extra pack of snogs in his backpack (a bit rumpled after my landing on him, but he stated the ciggies taste as fricking as ever), the close departure from the tomb and his chance to loot a high reward. No wonder he seems so relaxed, lying on the wall with both arms under his head and his legs stretched out comfortably. I wish I could mimic his behavior, however…

'You know', I start slowly, 'before we go, I must find Dante.'

He opens one eye and peeks at me attentively.

'_Dante_?', he repeats mockingly. 'You're on the first name basis with that wuss?'

I shrug, embracing my knees.

'I have to keep my cover.'

'Of course', he murmurs with amusement, then adds lightly: 'You know, I've always mistaken his name with Homer. Stupid, eh? It's like offending good ol' Homer Simpson…'

'You've always been dumb when it comes to names', I interrupted him negligently. 'Even your own. But don't put the wool over my eyes. Say, are you able to locate him?', I insist.

He throws me a short stare, then closes his eyes again. He doesn't say anything for a while, just tapping his foot against the ground and continuing smoking; the grayish mist starts to make my eyes watery.

'Why do you care so much?', he asks me eventually, in a low, raspy murmur.

'I've told you', I growl, a bit annoyed by his laziness. I guess he just wants to win another spare minute by making me blabber. 'Klaus told me to take care of him.'

'Seems like you do', Ryder smirks. 'A _very deep_ care.'

I gap my mouth, surprised by his comment. What?! Me caring for Dante? Ridiculous… I'm the one who agreed to blow him off existence. I couldn't care less if he survives or not, however… Klaus seems to be concerned about the secrets he'd take to his grave, so is Professor. And if they are, I must be as well. I have to share their point of view, as they will be the ones to account me for my moves towards Vale. For losing him prematurely as well…

Besides, he doesn't deserve to disappear just like that, without fanfares. After all, he somehow won that high position in Huntik… he can't just die like a mere mongrel, buried under the boulders. It seems even less glamorous that being eaten by mechanical bug… I promised to give him just a final gift of an elegant departure. It's not much, but don't expect me to be too generous. Especially towards a guy who hasn't given _me _a single flower while he strews Scarlet with bouquets.

'Stop screwing', I snarl, irritated by Ryder's suggestion. 'I just don't want to come back and tell the high-ups I failed… You can imagine what'd happen then. So?', I don't want to continue the topic. 'What's with your part of the deal?'

He raises his lids lazily, stopping with his cigarette a centimeter away from his lips. He looks at it, then lowers it reluctantly, observing the ribbon of smoke playing around his fingers yearningly.

'How to tell you that, babe…', he murmurs, rolling the cigarette between his fingers in a caressing manner. 'There's a bargain I made way sooner than this.'

CRACK.

Suddenly, a loud scrape of bended metal makes my teeth ache. My Kilthane gives out a metallic shout and disappears in a cloud of greenish dust, pierced through his armor so suddenly that his curved sword didn't manage to block… exactly the same blade. I moan from pain when his energy comes back to the amulet and I feel a faint shade of that injury. When I manage to open my eyes, through a layer of tears covering my lashes due to smoke and pain, I see that Ryder no longer smokes the ciggy; it lies next to his right boot and quickly gets crushed by a mail-clad leg of his Titan.

'I'm sorry, babe', Ryder says slowly. 'I have my debts to pay.'

'What the hell does it have to do with me?!', I drawl, blinking to clear my vision.

'It makes a very straight connection', he explains patiently. 'I made a bet with one of the Suits. I said you'd get rid of Vale in two days… and so, I lost my cash', he adds with some kind of reproof in his voice.

Is that another stupid nightmare or I'm really scolded by my ex for causing him trouble? And he thinks that it's an honor for me that he believes in my capabilities so much to see my mission as an opportunity to earn easy money! That's so ridiculous I'd burst into laughter if I wasn't a heroine of that bitter anecdote.

'You won't get it back that way, damn it', I growl, still holding my side. 'If he's dead…'

'…I will win another bet', Ryder smirks. 'Do you take me for a fool? I always keep myself covered. I forced him to make an agreement that he'll give me the cash back if Vale passes in his marbles in two months.'

I grit my teeth.

'How could you know if you win this one? There was no assurance I'd decide to finish my mission during this time…'

'I could take a risk', he shrugs. 'I didn't lose anything, I could only gain.'

'Yet I can't understand… how did you happen to be here just the day we did?', I squint my eyes suspiciously.

'I've always been lucky', he grins. 'I didn't expect to win the bet, so I accepted some new jobs to gather some funds. Then, I happened to bump into a lovely group of tourists… and right when I thought I was doomed due to being spotted, you informed me that I turned my bet into self-fulfilling prophecy! Isn't that a sign the fortune loves me? Way more than your lover boy, I think…', he chuckles, very satisfied with himself, though a long cough followed by the laughter dampens his mood a bit.

A stream of hot blood rushes to my head at that remark. _Lover boy?! _How Ryder dares to make such assumptions!? Did I give him any reason during those five minutes he saw me beside Vale?! I guess not, as I was too angry with him to even pretend to be nice… Damn, I've _never ever _acted as if I was attracted to him! Alright, maybe… once, when I was in a really bad condition, I wondered how it'd be like to have him. But that's all! Me and Dante hadn't even hold hands once! We didn't hug, kiss nor screw until dawn! I've never ever fawned over him! However, it pisses me off as f*ck that I'll never have a chance to decide if I'd want to! If Dante's dead, I'll be as well soon…

I clench my teeth, lifting myself up from the floor awkwardly.

'Ryder', I mumble, breathing heavily due to the effort I put into keeping straightened on my jelly-like legs. 'Soon, you'll regret finding that packet of snogs.'

'Because?', he asks me with a mocking politeness, amused by my miserable performance.

'I'm gonna stuff them in your ass', I growled furiously, 'one by one, so they'll find a second spine on your X-ray!'

He's always had a good reflex. I didn't expect him to estimate my current abilities so low that he wouldn't manage to cover himself with at least a basic shield when I fired a double Raypulse right at his face. If it hit him, his mug would be a good showpiece for a Borneo head hunters exhibition, shrunk and dried like a raisin.

However, there was Kilthane by his side. His shield blocked the hit with ease. Moreover, it kept me from continuing the attack. And covered Ryder, leaving me exposed to his moves. I try to reach him under Kilthane's arm, but he only doubles up, apparently dodging the blast… and then dashes from behind the shield, pouncing at me and knocking me off my feet.

My back explodes in pain when I hit the ground. I gasp, trying to catch my breath desperately, but my lungs seem filled by nails, every flow of air ignites fire in them. I can't even move a finger, let alone push away the man pressing me to the floor. He takes advantage on my temporary helplessness, twisting my arms and pressing them to the ground above my head. He immobilizes me with ease, using his weight to restrain me.

'Relax, babe', he calms me down, feeling my weak attempts to release myself. 'I'm not gonna do anything bad to you. I just want to make sure you won't mess my plans up by calling your new friends or something… Even if they start to search for your team, they won't do anything to me as I have a hostage, right?', he explains. 'I'll release you the moment I'm away from the Foundation territory. I have no intention of dragging you all the way. Unless you decide to follow, lured by my pheromones…', he grins unpleasantly.

I struggle in his grasp, but his hands are more effective than a wire. Then, I try the nastiest method of getting rid of a man: kicking him in his crotch.

'Woah, you're still quite prancing, aren't you?', he mocks me, pressing my knee to the ground with his; I have to clench my teeth not to scream. 'I always appreciated your agility... Who would think that you spend most of your time in bed?'

If I don't spew out a long set of curses right into his mug, I'll explode from pain and rage. I choose the worst I have in my dictionary, aiming at his ancestors, mother in particular, but before I finish it, his hand covers my mouth so suddenly that I don't even have a chance to avoid it. My furious mumble doesn't sound scary at all if I can't use my mouth properly!

'Then, a gag and a tie', he states firmly. 'Damn, I've always wanted to give you a bondage…', he adds in a less serious tone, making me even more furious. I can only wriggle as he prepares to tie me. 'I can't let you alarm your pals with all that shouting. Your lover boy could interrupt my performance the way I'd rather not accept.'

What? Dante… he's alive?! He's been all the way? And Ryder… he didn't tell me anything, just to use me the way he wanted?! Like a puppet pulled by its strings?! Giving me a sense of superiority, yet weaving the plot to suit his needs?!

'What's with that look?', he twitches his brows a bit. 'Of course I didn't let him rummage through the tomb without supervision. I kept an eye on him all along. He's in quite a good form. Don't overjoy', I can't tell how he noticed that, as I didn't do anything… maybe just widened my eyes a bit, 'not for long. I'm not gonna lose the money I could earn after his disappearance… and risk letting him out with all the info about my whereabouts. He'd take that to his grave… after all, cave-ins happen, right? And sometimes there are casualties… but don't worry, at least he'd have company here', he guffawed.

I tensed, then tried to push him out – with no effect, but desperately enough to surprise him. His Kilthane moves nervously, raising his blade a bit, just in case. However, Ryder manages to keep me immobilized with ease – he's almost thirty kilo heavier than me, and I feel it on my lap, slowly getting numb due to his weight.

'So, angry I outsmarted you?', he banters with me with apparent pleasure, now that I have no opportunity to punish him for his scorns. 'Did you really think I'd agree willingly to your conditions? Knowing what a sly vixen you are? I still remember your dirty little tricks, babe', he whispers meaningfully to my ear, sliding his finger across my neck and then pressing it to my skin.

Like a needle.

_**19**__**th**__** April 2004, Sunday, 0:21**_

_**Yeovil**_

_**Somerset County  
**_

_**England**_

_**The UK**_

_This was a right time._

_We fulfilled our mission. The goods Klaus wanted to get are lying safely in the sack, just few of them stand before Ryder, examining them in a dim light of the lamp._

'_That was quite a blast', he comments. 'If I knew it'd take so much sweat, I'd demand a double prize for getting the loot out unscratched…', of course. I didn't think the items valued for him as cultural heritage; more as a tool to score a right payment. _

_He had turned his back to me. He didn't even pay attention to me, lost in his observations. He was a perfect target. The moment had come._

_I slid the needle down my sleeve and caught it in my fingers, squeezing it tight not to drop it onto the floor and alarm him with its quiet clatter. I took a deep breath. Only one chance. I couldn't fail. I had to do my best just for a tiny bit of second… and then it would be over._

'_I guess your old man would be pleased', Ryder stated, then started to whistle quietly._

_Of course he would. He'd have both the loot and the money without any effort. I hoped he'd just notice how much it had cost me. Travelling for few days with a man who treated me like his maid, standing his sexist jokes, dumping his importunity… Revenge would be sweet._

_I sneaked out right behind his back. I was a step away from him. Just one agile jump and a swing of hang, then thrusting the needle deep into his vein, in that plain place uncovered by the low collar of his jersey… _

_I didn't hesitate. I used all my nimbleness and crossed the small gap between us, then, moving smoothly like a ballet dancer, reached to the side of his neck. _

_And then I hissed, feeling a handcuff-like grip on my wrist. I clenched my lids, feeling a contortion in my hand, yet unable to slacken it as the grasp doubled. _

'_You thought you'd fool me?', Ryder growled; his rusty eyes looked like two gates of hell, burning with fury. 'I knew right from the start that the old fart was planning some dirty trick', he barked, pushing me back to the wall covered by cabinets. I gasped when my back hit the wood and the handles pushed into my flesh. 'Sending me off with a hot chick, agreeing to my conditions so obediently…', he continued, not giving a shit about the obvious signs of my pain. He was so close that I see the lighter edge surrounding his pupils and a small scar next to his left mouth corner; his breath settled on my lips like a vapor as he spoke. 'Don't take me for a halfwit.'_

_He tightened the grip on my wrist; my hand got closer to my neck, the needle almost reached the vein. I gulped, trying to free my hand, but he's so damn strong, there's no way I'd break his grip. So, that's it. Klaus warned me I'd have only one chance. I had lost it. I had overestimated my own strength, thinking that after the whole day of escapes, using a dozen spells and defeating two powerful Titans I'd be as fresh as a daisy and deal with my prey with no problem. That mistake would cost me an arm and a leg… maybe literally._

'_Too bad', Ryder whispered when the tip was just a centimeter from my skin. 'I started to like you.'_

'_F*ck you, Ryder', I spitted it at his face as a goodbye._

'_I'd rather f*ck you instead', he smirked, not moved by my rage. 'What a pity you made such proposition too late.'_

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday 17:43**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

I shiver when Ryder's hand suddenly slides down my cheek.

'You know I hate to do that', he assures me almost softly. 'Even though you're such a snaky b*tch… I guess that's why you used to stir me. Well, you still do', he admits ostentatiously, shrugging. 'Too bad we didn't meet somewhere else, in other circumstances… I prefer women moaning because of me in quite different situations… way more pleasant for both…', he moves his brow in a suggestive manner.

And then, out of impulse, I realized there was the only idea I could try before giving up. It wasn't exactly a thing I'd like to do, on the contrary, I'd rather kiss my ass than stoop so low, but it couldn't hurt to try. After all, I was prepared to rely on such dirty methods and stay insensible to them somehow.

I bite his palm and he backs his hand, surprised, growling and shaking his arm. However, before he manages to do anything more than cursing, I dash forward and smack my lips against his.

Just like back then.

_They were still, unmoved when I pressed mine against them. They tasted of rough skin, smoke and salt. So dry. Unless I felt them parting; his wet tongue slid across them and entered my mouth, finding mine and catching it in a violent dance. I let him take the leadership, having more important thing to achieve. It was a bit hard to focus on French-kissing Ryder and trying to release my hand, but I doubled my efforts to do so. However, his grip didn't loose a tiny bit. I felt his breath on my mouth when he broke the kiss only to give out a mean chuckle._

'_Very clever', he murmured, 'but don't you think you can scoop out like that.'_

_He twisted my wrists a bit and the needle fell onto the floor, sliding from my fingers. _

'_That's what I call safe sex', he commented, peeking at the needle. He swept it under one of the cabinets with one swing of his leg, then pressed me to the wall. 'Now… both of us can have some fun.'_

_No. I wouldn't, I didn't want to, I hated him, his looks, his personality, his irritating way of looking down on me, the odor of his snogs sticking to his fingers, clothes and hair, his certainty that he'd have me on his terms, like everyone! I didn't want it, I'd be the one to decide how it looked like, despite my duties, my orders, my fate which protested hardly against my actions…!_

_A sudden shiver shot through me when I felt his rough chops sliding down my exposed neck, the tip of his tongue leaving a warm, wet trace on my skin. His fingers played with the edges of my trousers, hooking on the straps of my knickers and tickling those sensitive spots on my groins, additionally brushed by his tough, muscular thighs. I bit my lower lip not to let out a moan, but I couldn't do anything about the growing undulation of my chest and my raising body heat… _

_And then, despite my desperate attempts to save just the pieces of my haughty pose, I just surrendered to them, forgetting about my promise to Klaus and the consequences. There was just only thing I wanted to fulfill. I wanted to convince Ryder that out of us both, I was the one on the upper hand, the one who had to power to leave him at my mercy, crawling at my feet and begging for more._

_I pushed him away the moment when I felt him vulnerable due to the obvious changes occurring in his body reacting to mine. He gasped and backed, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I threw him onto the bed before he even blinked, then pounced on his lap like a wild cougar, sucking face with him as if I had tried to drain his power like a vampire. We broke the deep kiss only when it disturbed us in tearing our clothes off. I blindly unzipped his trousers, he'd already slid mine down my calves, groping my buttocks in a way that I both hated and enjoyed due to the mix of violent pleasure it was giving me. When he turned the tables and pressed me to the mattress, I wanted both to send him flying and pull him closer right away. As I couldn't do both, I just made my inner needs satisfied by nibbling at his ear as strong as I could, making him suffer for the stream of unwanted, twisted delight he caused in my whole body…_

_That was like a first jab leading to my two-years-long addiction. _

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 17:44**

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

Dante crossed the corridor and turned left, then right, then left again… with each choice he made, the voice seemed to be closer. And then… he dashed into a chamber filled with a pile of rubble; apparently, it was one of the rooms which surrounded the initial cavern, blown by the Organization tracker. They took most of the damage; now their walls looked like messed puzzles, the carvings on them didn't even create a certain pattern, just pieces of it tossed around like uneven corn flakes.

Boltlflare lit above his head gleamed like a sparkler and casted an aura of glow in the dimness. The tiny sparks fell in a semi-circular pattern, creating a diadem-like ornament above a dark-haired head and making her hair looking even more bluish than they were normally.

For a second, Dante stared at that view as if he was blessed with an epiphany, so miraculous that he couldn't do anything but stare paralyzed and just watch the stars disappearing one by one. He was just blinking and in the diminishing light, staring at her small face surrounded by a mass of ruffled hair, lying messily like a blotch and falling onto a shallow crease on her forehead, her knees and hands scratched, her big, wet eyes flashing brightly in the dirt covering her cheeks, with small lines created by tears making their way through the dust…

'Zhalia', he uttered before the last spark blew out, and as he spoke that name, something broke in him; after all that time of worrying, tensing in fear and desperately looking for any sign of her presence, hell, she was alive and well, SHE WAS THERE!

He felt so desperate to check her injuries, catch her into his grip, bring her so close to his chest that she'd certainly accuse him of choking her, kiss her stained forehead or apologize for making it so long… yet he couldn't make a step out of the tunnel mouth, paralyzed…

She solved his trouble; five second after she saw him, she just raised her hand impatiently and shot him.

Right at his chest.

Without hesitation.

And smirking.

He realized what Scarlet shouted to him before:

'_It might be a trap!'_

He sneered. As if he hadn't known it. He fell into it willingly.

Overshield stopped the blast right before it pierced through his skull like a thin beam of a bluish laser. It barely resisted the next energy wave, but Dante withstood the damage somehow, just got pulled under the wall, observing how the familiar face was melting into another one, long, pale and crowned by red hair.

'So, we finally meet again', Dante snapped, recognizing the one that gave him a large bruise on his chest.

The ginger's only response was a fiery stare and a quick twitch of his lips.

'You don't seem very happy about that', Dante remarked sarcastically. 'I guess you prefer to get rid of your enemies by shooting at their back when they least expect it… for example, leading them astray by playing on their emotions… just like every Organization scumbag', he snarled. 'Too bad you failed. Your method was old, yet quite clever…', he recalled the look on the fake Zhalia face and a shiver came down his spine; it was so hard to resist its painful look, even if he had had a feeling it was a doppelganger… 'However', he added, shaking that memory off, 'I found the proofs of your presence before. And strange traces of a fight… which made me aware that maybe you had an encounter with my teammate. And would try to use it somehow… I wasn't mistaken', he finished, straightening up.

The guy just raised his brows in a manner saying: 'Well, well, quite a smartass you are.'

'I'm sorry', Vale answered with a mean grin. 'It's just my occupational habit. Now, we'll get straight to the point. Where's Zhalia?', he asked sharply.

The man responded with an unmentionable gesture. However, he quickly lowered his hand when a flashing beam almost ripped his middle finger off.

'If you're not gonna tell me willingly', Dante growled, 'I'll make you spit it with your blood or pull it directly from your throat!'

Then he rushed at the rival, distracting him with a double Boltflare. However, the spheres of light quickly drowned in a cloud of smoke that shot up from the floor and covered everything in a thick, choking shroud. Dante quickly covered his mouth and nose in case the dust was toxic. He looked around to find the Organization operative, but he vanished in the smoke. Dante cursed, unable to believe he lost him due to such a simple trick.

His fear was too early. Two seconds later, a heavy combat boot almost created a hole in his temple. He dodged the blow and another one coming right after, then tried to counterattack. He managed to direct two kicks, then a punch, but they got avoided as easily as if the sturdy man wasn't made of flesh, as his strength and appearance suggested, but of wind. Dante was greatly shocked by such efficiency; he had rather expected the guy to be a hill of meat, too heavy to act fast if needed and focused on crushing his enemy no matter what the costs, and supposed that he would have advantage over him, due to his lighter weight, overall flexibility and canniness. However, he had to admit the goon wasn't just a mere cannon fodder; though his style resemble a wild mix of advanced martial arts wrests and simple ploys right from a cheap-jack taproom, he seemed experienced in combining them effectively enough to impress even such a stager like Dante. Additionally, he showed some shrewdness by blinding Dante and threatening him with an unknown substance. Fighting with his mouth covered was a bit complicated and, as it turned out a moment later, doomed to failure. When the guy aimed at his head again, Dante somersaulted, but to keep his balance, he had to lower his hand and expose his nostrils to the smoke. He didn't mind so much, though; he thought that since his enemy was immune to it, he would be as well.

Wrong. When he took a breath, he thought he'd either suffocate or vomit, trying to push the smell from his mouth with the stomach contents. He fell onto his knees, banging his fist against his chest, as if it could have helped anyhow. The guy chuckled somewhere in the maze, sensing an easy target. However, Dante had a suitable support, even in such inconvenient conditions.

'SOLWING!', he choked out quickly, holding back his nausea.

The falcon dashed into the air so swiftly that he resembled a reversed lightning. He didn't mind the smoke – just like his kin, he didn't have to breathe. Dante wished he could summon Caliban, but he didn't have enough energy to risk such a move. Besides, out of his Titans, Solwing had the best eyesight and would notice even a moth on a dark tree trunk, let alone the stout goon in the smoke. In a blink of an eye, he swooped, scaring the attacker away from Dante, aiming at the bruiser's eyes with his sharp claws. It gave Vale time to pull himself together and get ready to continue the fight. Moreover, Solwing's fluttering wings quickly dissipated the cloud which would have taken time to clear off normally, as the air in the tomb was rather still; thus, the risk was saw off and Dante could stop worrying about being knocked off again.

'_I must ask Zhalia to teach me Headcage', _he reminded himself. But first, he had to pump the goon for information where she was. Oh wait… Where was _him_, to begin with? Vale examined the whole interior, but he was nowhere to find. Solwing seemed confused as well, flying above his head in circles. Dante asked him what happened, surprised that the falcon couldn't tell where the enemy was, but the bird was just sending him unclear responses that he could sense the persecutor somewhere nearby, but he was 'out of his reach'. Dante assumed it was some kind of an invisibility power that even Solwing's sharp stare couldn't pierce through.

'Alright', he growled, even more determined to crush the operative due to fooling him like a mere youngster. 'Enough of dirty tricks and playing hide-and-seek. Come out and fight me like a man, if you have any balls.'

There was no response, but Dante wasn't going to give up that easily.

'You're quite silent! Out of your witty jokes and cocky catchphrases?', he started to talk trash him. 'Sad that you don't have anything more than that.'

There was a flash behind him. Vale smirked.

'You're helpless without your explosive toys, aren't you?', he continued casually, as if he had talked with an old peer. 'Making everything explode, seeing the destruction you cause… yeah, that's just how the real man would like to handle stuff', he perfectly hid the mockery. 'But… it's a bit disturbing that you were so willing to give me a blow job', he underlined sarcastically. 'Wonder what you colleagues will think about it when the news spreads in the Organization… You will have to make a lot of explanations!'

Dante was prepared that the results would come very quickly. That was how insulting another dude worked – especially if the other guy was very sensitive about his masculinity and couldn't stand being accused of any suspicious acts. However, Dante almost missed the moment nevertheless. When the man jumped out of nowhere, he had just a second to turn around and fire a double spell right at his chest. Raypulse's increased energy lit between them, separating their bodies, then repulsed the goon so hard that he hit the wall. Dante gritted his teeth, expecting a loud crack of bones. However, it didn't sound. Instead of the short thud of a falling body, there was silence… in which a stream of reddish energy almost sneaked out the room, leaving just a faint splash of sparks in the place where the man's back was supposed to be.

_A Titan!_, Dante's eyes widened in realization. Of course, that explained the immunity to poison gas and invisibility! However, if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he'd never believe in a Titan mimicking human appearance and behavior so accurately…

He didn't think twice.

'Solwing!', he shouted to the falcon accompanying him. 'Follow him! We can't lose him! He'll lead us directly to his master!', he hurried the bird up. The Titan flashed through the chamber and disappeared, but Dante still felt their connection. He rushed to chase the reddish gleam as fast as he could. However, now there wasn't a risk he wouldn't manage to catch up with the nimble, phantom-like ribbon, having Solwing on its tail. He tried to do his best not to fall behind too much, though. It was way easier as he felt as if he had had an engine instead of heart, pushing him to dash through the tunnels like a rocket.

_Just a little longer, Zhalia, _he thought with new power_. I'm coming._

**15****th**** July 2009, 17:47 **

**The Heapstown Cairn**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

Despite my plans, it wasn't me who broke the kiss.

I should have done so a long time ago. I should use the distraction, put my elbow into his abdomen, push the air out of his lungs and take advantage on his confusion to get free.

But, once again, I overestimated my skills. I didn't distance myself from my action. I simply couldn't back down. When I plastered myself to Ryder, all my brilliant ideas disappeared, leaving a striking emptiness which got filled by shock, disbelief and puzzlement. I should think only about how he detests me, everything I hate in him, our twisted relationship arising frustration, anger and competition between us, all the times he let me down, that one moment when he completely broke my trust, the whole time I tried to recover after he left me devastated…

I couldn't. Just as strongly as I pushed him away before, I don't want to let go now. His lips taste as salty as before, and are equally creased, but I don't mind them feeling so chapped against mine, full and soft. I can't get enough of his heat, his distinctive smell, both displeasing and appealing, the scratch of his short hair on my hands, his breath tangled with mine, a murmur of content escaping his throat… It was like a first dope after a long, long detox; though the bitter rehab appeared an only right thing to do before, now, contrasting with the pleasure of tasting the fresh drug, the defiance seemed dull, unnecessary and boring in comparison, way less exciting than sliding down the spiral of addiction…

I doubt we would brake in time if he didn't suddenly wince in ache and pull away abruptly, holding his ribs as if he had a heart attack. I see a thread of crimson energy sinking into his flesh as he grimaces, wriggling in twinge and pressing his hands to his chest. He screams loudly when three long scratches add to his suffering, crossing his face and dripping with blood. I look around to discover what caused such injuries, and then I notice a mass of gray feathers, pulling Ryder away from me despite Kilthane's attempts to eliminate it…

'Solwing!', I recognize the Titan. If he's close, then… then Dante must be nearby!

Two hours ago, I'd probably jump from joy to the ceiling and didn't mind hitting my head against it. But now… My heart shrinks in fear. I'm not worried he'll suspect me of knowing Ryder way better than a victim should know her persecutor. We don't look exactly friendly… apart from the kiss, of course, but I'm not gonna repeat that in front of Vale. However, keeping my cover means I'd have to fight with Dante against Ryder… convincingly, using my full strength. There's no way Ryder would stand us both. But there are certain borders of camouflage, damn it! I can't let the Foundation capture one of our best trackers!

I quickly push Ryder off me; it goes way easier than before due to the weakened state he's in. He exhales chokingly and falls back, but before he does, I manage to catch a small metal box strapped to his belt and tear it off with one quick tug. I take a closer look; hell yeah, easy like a club's structure… Only one button on the shell and a timer above. Good thing it doesn't require any advanced knowledge on incendiary devices…

'What're you doing, you idiot?!', Ryder shouts, noticing the lack of one of his toys. 'Do you want to bury us alive?!'

I raise my stare at him, at that face I hate so much, yet couldn't have erased it from my mind during all those years of separation; ugly like hell, contorted in frenzy, stained, smeared with red, resembling a bloodthirsty murderer from a thriller movie. But then, apart from that, I notice a spark of fear behind his eyes, which only increases his rage; like a hedged animal, torn off his dominion and confused by sudden realization that he might not deal with the events as smoothly as always. And a pitiful smile bends my lips a bit. I've decided.

'Zhalia!', I hear Dante's voice behind me. I take a look behind me; I see a brownish spot just entering the chamber. I don't have time. No hesitation anymore.

'I'm sorry', I say, jerking up from the ground. Ryder dashes to stop me by any means, but I repulse him to the exit our Kilthanes cleared. I turn my head aside not to see him gaping in disbelief as I clench my teeth and push the button on the shell, then throw the box between us. Before it falls right into the centre of the chamber, I'm already on the move, running to the entrance as fast as my numb legs can carry me, feeling his stare on my back.

I've got only four seconds.

One.

I hear Solwing's piercing whizz when Kilthane slashes him in half.

Two.

I stand on something slippery like a piece of soap and trip over; I'm not gonna make it.

Three.

As I lay on the floor and try to crawl to the exit, I feel the ground is starting to shake already. I cover my head when I get shaded by a large shape, thinking that my time has come, but then I feel someone's hands catching me in half and pulling me through.

Four.

KABOOM.

* * *

Ouch.

And that's your whole afterlife. No suffering, they said. No injuries, they said. No bumps, they said.

However, I can perfectly feel mine. Especially my knees, torn off the skin when I fell onto the ground; my hands, clenched in fists so tightly that I suppose they got spasmed temporarily… and my head which feels so heavy that I would never ever lift it from the ground. I doubt spiritual beings have headaches… which only proves that I'm not gonna join the merry company of the Carrowkeel tombs soon.

But why is everything so dark, then? Was I blinded?

Nope; when I open my tightened lids and blink few times, a colorful mist before my eyes vanishes slowly, revealing a good view on a black sweater and a diarrhea-colored cloak. And a pair of worried, brown eyes somewhere above.

'Dante?', I speak up, though my throat feels very sore. 'Why… how…'

'Zhalia!', he beams suddenly. 'You woke up!'

'U-hum', I try to nod, but my neck feels so stiff. I rub it, wanting to remove the inflexibility as soon as possible, 'cause I feel like in a collar stiffener when I intend to turn it left, to the entrance. Much to my surprise, I can't see the destroyed chamber, as the entrance is barred by an enormous rock… dressed in a red loincloth?

'Metagolem?', I mumble in puzzlement.

'Yes', Dante admits. 'I managed to summon him in a last resort. If not him, we wouldn't probably get there unscarred. He's been covering us since then, in case the cave-in reached there.'

I listen out to the sounds of the falling rocks, but there is just a drown thud somewhere in the depths of the tomb.

'I don't hear the noise', I remark. 'Have I been unconscious for long?'

'No, I wouldn't let that happen', Dante assured me. 'We're just not exactly next to that chamber. I couldn't carry you far away, as I wasn't sure if you're not seriously wounded, but we couldn't stay so close to the cave-in.'

I murmur affirmatively and unbend a bit. My head doesn't want to keep straight. I have to hold it with my head not to let it fall off.

'Easy', Dante supports me with his arm. 'It's not very wise to move a lot in your state. You're fine', he calms me down, seeing my short, nervous stare. 'You just hit your head and have only a small bruise, here', he gently touches my forehead, brushing a strand falling onto my nose behind my ear, 'but it's barely visible.'

I tense when he slides his fingers across a sensitive, chaffed skin on my temple. His fingertips feel so rough… and they tremble.

'Only a bruise', he repeats, his voice strangled disconcertingly, 'when for all this time, I was worried that… that you… that I wouldn't get to you in time… when I think about it, I want to tear that bastard apart for keeping me away…'

I look at him in confusion. His face is so shallow, begrimed with grayish smears on his neck and forehead. On that background, small gashes on his temples and cheeks are barely visible, though some of them are still bleeding, the rest covered in dark scabs. When I lower my stare, I notice that his ruffled sweater, falling neglectfully onto his trousers, reveals a large, bluish contusion… And he's concerned about one insignificant bruise?!

Good thing my skin is darker than most people's. Otherwise I'd be red like a tomato, realizing that during all this time we were separated, I didn't think much about him. He rummaged through the whole tomb searching for me and blustering if I am safe and sound, left at the enemy's mercy, alone, maybe hurt... Meanwhile, I was just concerned if he wouldn't mess up my mission dying, and didn't worry exactly if I'd make it out alive, having a highly skilled tracker by my side and treating the march through the cairn like a walk with a long-time-no-see acquaintance… and finally, I risked our both lives to let Ryder slip away.

I turn my head aside, bite my lip and dig my nails into the fresh wound on my knee; feeling it splitting in half is way more pleasant that bitter, shameful feelings that are flooding me… However, when I press my thigh, I feel something sticking in my flesh. I slide my hand under it and touch something smooth, curved and warmed by my body heat. A lighter… But how? Of course; that's probably what I tripped over. I must've caught it automatically and carried it there. I've heard a lot about contortions so strong that people had to have their fingers broken to loosen the grip. Good thing mine wasn't that case and I dropped the lighter when Dante laid me there.

I must hide it. No one from the Foundation can see it, otherwise they'll get suspicious... But what can I do now when he's watching me? He'll notice… and start to ask, as a private eye and as a Foundation operative…

I squint my eyes when a shaft of light sweeps through the hall and then disappears, and then flashes again.

'Hey, is anyone there?!', I bristle mechanically due to the tone of that yell echoing in the tunnels, however, I've never been so happy to hear a man's voice.

'Don't shout!', a male baritone hushes piercingly. 'There's just been a cave-in! They'll see the lights, no need to scare them…'

'It's the Foundation', Dante overjoys, standing up briskly. 'We're saved!'

I sigh with relief, using the distraction to bring the lighter from under my thigh and drop it into my pocket. It feels heavier than it should. Maybe that's how the guilt weighs?...


	19. Chapter 19: Guilt

Uhm, hi there...

Damn, I'm so sorry. I'm so freaking sorry that I can't say it in proper words. You can't even imagine how bad I feel with myself recently, with the awareness that I kept giving you promises and then not fulfilled them. And if I just hadn't even tried! But I did. I was writing this part of the chapter every single spare moment. And then I realized that even doing my best, I couldn't do it as fast I had sworn. It tires me so much. It sounds so lame, but I feel as if I didn't have enough time for studying, other people, my hobbies, rest... I don't want to drop anything, so I keep struggling to balance everything. Oh no, now I made it sound as if I was a martyr or something. No, I'm not. Probably I'm just a badly organized person and a perfectionist, which is quite a difficult mix, believe me...

Alright, no more complaints and excuses. After all, I'm not good at them either. They don't sound convincing enough even for me. Maybe 'cause I'm angry with myself. Or maybe because I can't find a way to spill my heart here and let you see that I'm really ashamed.

It's time to answer your reviews. I wonder if I shouldn't respond to them by private messages, it would be way faster... I wouldn't need a new chapter to respond. However, I'm not sure if it would work, as some of you guys are not registered on ff. What do you think? Please, let me know.

- Kimberly: I'm sorry for your insomnia caused by ZhaliaXRyder, but I think you made up for the lost sleep during the whole time I was off ^^ I also find their relationship interesting enough to write about. Sometimes I just need a huge dose of straight-forwardness, and with Zhalia and Dante... well, that's more complicated. Thanks to hers and Ryder's mutual affiliation to the Organization, they can be more open towards themselves, though only in work matters, as you see... oh no, wait, I take it back, there was a hot night and a kiss on the way ;P I think that the bond is more erotic and sexual than spiritual, as you noticed. Ryder draws Zhalia by his kind-of-animalistic charm, it attracts her primitive instincts. It's more like an addiction than real fondness on her side, and he... well, which light-hearted guy would throw a willing girl outta his bed? :] They had an affair in the past which ended up quite badly, but that's another story which will be described here for sure... but not today nor tomorrow. I plan to add it to chapter... well, let me count... 23, I think, something around that. I hope it would be believable enough to make you understand why Zhalia feels a strange connection with Ryder. Maybe Dante will also understand... when/if he finds out. I won't say now ;)

- Jess: Wow, I'm so glad I updated around your birthday ^^ You guys should really send me your dates of birth to let me give you all such gifts, as I'm not able to send any other ones! I'm glad Ryder came out just the way I wanted him to be. He differs from his comics portrayal, but I like this one better. I think Zhalia would go crazy with someone as boring as his drawn counterpart... He was too good, just like another version of Grier. I thought that we lack a really bad boy here, full of that naughty charm we girls sometimes like so much ;) Zhalia herself doesn't know if she loves or hates him more, I think. Her thoughts are too twisted. I will explain them in the following parts of the chapter.

- CindyKayla: Oh my, I didn't know you're Chinese! Now I'm embarrassed that I keep on sulking 'bout Chinese! However, it's a bit hard for me to study both Japanese and Chinese. Chinese grammar is similar to Polish, but I don't get the tones. In Polish there's no difference on which tone you sat the word, it has the same meaning. And the signs differ from Japanese. As I have to focus on Japanese, I don't have much heart for Chinese... It would be way easier if Chinese was my main goal. Maybe I will try to study it harder to have an opportunity to write to you in your own language... I'll do my best!  
You're the first to call Ryder irritating, that's refreshing :D I also think he's annoying. But in quite a funny way. Besides, even such a knight in shiny armor like Dante irritates Zhalia, why Ryder wouldn't?! ^^ Don't say anything about Scarlet... I'm a bit fed up with her, though she can always be a scapegoat in the chapters. And she won't change into anything more than it and a flirt for quite a long time :]

- Joey8: DAM DAM DAM DAM side drums

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

**From the bottom of my heart, thank you for existing, being my Reader, commenting my work, having such a lovely, wise and witty personality and helping me with the plot! I truly enjoy the lecture of everything you write to me and take your advices to my heart. Thanks to you, this part of the chapter was finally made, and the rest got clear in my mind. I'm happy to know you, even though only in the Internet. I wish you all the best luck, personal successes, everlasting happiness, fulfilling your deepest, most precious dreams and life full of wonderful surprises!  
**  
I guess me updating finally is one of them, though I'm not sure if it's really all that wonderful ^^ I'm sorry it's just a part again, but just think about it - you will have a gift divided in two parts and when you receive the second one, it will be just like having another birthday the same year, won't it? ;P

And with that positive accent, I'm clearing off, ashamed of my silliness and afraid of your guys reaction to the chapter and my final arrival!

All yours (I wish!),  
Sha

* * *

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 18:01**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

The first gangplank between the Carrowkeel explosion survivors and the outer world was a warm, damp touch Dante suddenly felt on his hand, joined by a mass of shaggy fur and energetic yet non-violent dabs of a fleshy tail against his calves.

'Good girl, Missy!', the echo praised, but the golden retriever seemed more content when Dante knelt down to deal with its outburst of affection by patting its sides and scratching its fur. Vale quickly regretted that choice; though he had a liking to animals, dogs in particular, and enjoyed their contact a lot, he wasn't quite as pleased when they were drowning him in their saliva, enjoying this way of showing their happiness a lot.

'Oh my, you can never keep fangirls away', Zhalia commented, observing the playing which slowly started to resemble wrestling, with Missy being on the upper hand. 'They go wild around you, no matter what species they are.'

'Very funny', Vale squinted his lids not to let the dog lick his eyeballs, what it definitely tried to achieve. Luckily, Missy quickly ran out of her interest in him when she had bestowed him with all her favors. She started to sniff Zhalia's boots curiously, causing the woman to observe her cautiously.

'Don't you even think about it', she warned the retriever putting a paw on her knee. 'I don't enjoy such caresses.'

The dog yelped quietly, wagging its tail right and left and looking at her with large, emphatic eyes.

'Sorry, girl', the operative Moon smirked, pushing it away, 'but I'm not moved by your little 'I'm-so-adorable' tricks. Try them with that one here. He seems to have fun with your kisses.'

The dog hadn't gotten discouraged by the woman's antipathy, though. The retriever wandered around her, sniffing the ground and catching the smell of her trousers with its nose few centimeters apart from her thigh. Dante felt a soft brush of fur on his arm when the animal moved its tail nervously; probably, it didn't like the odor of the explosive material still stuck to Zhalia's clothes or the scent left by the interaction with the goon. However, Missy didn't back; her attempts to get to know Zhalia better only increased. Though Moon was clearly expressing her discontent by pulling away as far as she could, the canine almost climbed onto her lap blindly, still snuffing with dedication, a bit surprising given that it fulfilled its duty by finding the explosion victims. Luckily, before Missy added few injuries to the woman's list, a fluorescent vest stuck out brightly in the flashlight's beam and a short, stocky rescue worker pulled the golden retriever back sturdily by its collar.

'No, no, it's enough of your frolics now, young lady', he calmed the hound down, 'I guess our survivors had enough of assaults for today', he smiled, tapping the dog's back. 'Thank God we found you', he said to the human companions. 'Are you relatively alright?'

'Yeah', Zhalia commented wryly, wriggling in her place and trying to turn over her stiffened legs. 'I said 'yeah!', she growled when one of the rescuers caught her by her shoulders to help her stand. 'What was unclear in that sentence?!', she added angrily, jumping onto her feet and piercing the man with her sharp glare, which caused him to back abruptly with his palms turned outside in a defending manner.

'She's got a tough day', Dante whispered apologetically when the guy stopped beside him. 'Just… be patient, OK?'

The man didn't seem convinced, yet murmured in agreement for his own safety. As Zhalia resembled a furious wildcat which could only be restrained by an experienced tamer, it was better to listen to someone used to her fads and quirks.

'This way', one of his co-workers casted a shaft of light into the depths of the corridor. 'You'll be able to loosen your nerves soon.'

**15****th**** July 2009, Wednesday, 18:17**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

'We're on the run-up', the rescuer informed them.

Good thing walking through the destroyed cairn turned out to be a snap with a proper guidance of Huntik rescue team, their orientation and specialized equipment, because Dante achingly looked forward to the departure from the tomb. He couldn't wait to clear his airways of its mustiness, which seemed to fill his lungs like tangles of dust, impossible to cough nor spit. His head also felt as if his brain cells had switched places or got tied in a random manner. He expected the first gust on the surface to clear him off that filth in the literal and metaphorical way, so when he felt it on his face, he raised his head to the slowly setting sun and…

'DANTE!'

Well, there wasn't anything miraculous in gasping in the middle of a deep breath and wheezing when something bumped right into the place when the bruise spread. Instead of refreshment and relief, the emergence greeted him with a sudden explosion of pain in his abdomen. The orange flash bloomed before his eyes and covered his view; he blinked, trying to regain his normal sight, however, the temporary colorful blindness was quickly proven to be not a sign of strain, just a mass of fiery hair.

'You've made it out alive!', Scarlet shouted, hugging him so tight that boa constrictor could be jealous of her skills. Even Missy the retriever had been far more gentle. 'I knew you would, but, heaven, I was so scared!'

Dante saw stars and planets starting to circle on the background of her curls when her skinny, bony arms felt like a barbed wire against his irritated skin. He clenched his teeth, though a painful hiss escaped his mouth nevertheless, loud enough for a deaf one to hear it. However, Scarlet hadn't. Even the warnings of the nurse following her and collecting the patchwork blanket from the grass, when it lied abandoned after slipping from Byrne's shoulder, didn't keep the red-head from crushing Dante's ribs. Before he managed to gently free himself from the grasp, someone gave out a loud snarl behind his back.

'Oh man', Zhalia commented in a not so quiet whisper, as if she intended everyone to hear it. 'Even the dog drooling onto his face didn't look so gross…'

She nudged few Foundation rescue team members and ended Dante's suffering, pulling Scarlet away bluffly, similarly to the way the rescue worker perched Missy in place before. Although, surprisingly, the previous act didn't look as harshly.

'Give him a break', Zhalia's disgusted voice perfectly fitted her grimace. 'His belly resembles minced meat, those caresses won't help him recover.'

Vale just massaged his chest to prove those words right. However, Scarlet didn't pay attention to him anymore. She plastered her eyes to Zhalia as if she had resembled one of the original inhabitants of the tomb who had just gotten resurrected. The operative Moon shifted the weight from foot to foot nervously, uneasy with that stare.

'What?', she barked, quickly taking her hand off. 'Don't goggle your eyes like that, I haven't gotten a fake suntan. It's just a grime spread by some nasty explos…'

'Zhalia', Scarlet's eyes got teary all of the sudden, 'I'm so glad… Dante saved you!'

She dashed forward with her arms wide open. Zhalia, seeing it, backed abruptly with her face contorted in a distasted wince and eyes widened in shock; however, she couldn't escape from Scarlet's grip. The red-head caught her regardless of her escape and pulled her closer, almost crushing her in that grasp.

'I'm sorry', she sobbed right into the stiffened Moon's upper sleeve, 'I just didn't think… that Dante would find you alive…'

'Oh, thanks', Zhalia threw sarcastically, though the way she wriggled in the other girl's embrace gave out her embarrassment and discontent. 'That's just another reason I just couldn't give you satisfaction and end up as a stiff… Now get off me!'

Dante rushed to her aid to pay back for the help he had received, but she finally found a way out on her own. Probably only Vale, who came the most closely, noticed how she pinched Byrne's side so strongly that the gingy squeaked and twitched, loosening her bindings. Zhalia took advantage on that and stood in a safe distance. Her puzzlement was so ridiculous that Dante had to hold back a strangled chuckle, but some of the rescuers didn't manage and burst into laughter; the middle-aged rescue team leader, heavily resembling a badger due to his salt-and-pepper hair (called Doyle, Donegal or something like that; Dante didn't catch it clearly from the talks), was among them.

'That's what I like the most about this job', he guffawed, 'the reunions.'

However, he quickly became a new victim of the overall hilarity as he goggled his eyes in shock when Scarlet kissed him twice at each cheek.

'Thank you, Mr. O'Donnell', she said heartily (thus clearing the doubts about the leader's personal details), 'thank you all', she added, looking at the rest of the team. They stared at her hopefully, waiting for more material signs of her gratefulness, which she willingly distributed, much to Zhalia's disgust. However, Byrne's behavior reminded Dante of the endeavor put by the Irish Foundation members to get them out of the trouble.

'Oh yes, we're very grateful for your quick arrival and help', he lowered his head in respect.

'It's not us you should be thankful for', O'Donnell corrected, smoothing his thick, shaggy moustache contently as he observed Scarlet approaching the expectant crowd. 'That gutsy lass was so determined to see you again that she set up the whole Sligo compound.'

Dante omitted to mention what effort was needed to find Scarlet's courage. As always, Zhalia didn't have such a problem with expressing her discredit by a loud, doubtful sneer. It took some time for her to understand what she had been told exactly. For few moments, she edgily smartened her outfit (checking with distaste the wet spots left on her sleeve by Scarlet's tears) and blew a strand off her forehead, throwing around sharp glares, as if she had wanted to pierce anyone who had seen her in such an awkward situation as hugging the disliked red-head. However, she suddenly forgot about being hateful after the meaning reached her. She straightened up and froze with her eyes stuck above Dante's shoulder, her brows twitched and knitted. Dante followed her stare and blinked few times, not sure if the view spreading before him was reality or just another mirage playing with his vision due to exhaustion and abrasions.

The whole hill was occupied by Foundation operatives. They gathered needed equipment from the cars parked on the road in the valley. The workers hefted large mechanisms uphill, panting from effort and sometimes stopping in the middle to wipe off the drops of sweat from their temples. Some cautiously carried small complex devices; though they didn't weigh as much and thus could be considered a piece of cake for many, they were also way more sensitive and dropping any could result in completely breaking it. However, most of them reached a small intelligence point created in the centre by few operatives who, all and sundry, wore long white smocks, as if they had been just taken away from the laboratory and hadn't had time to change. They could be easily mistaken with the health care assistants, also dressed in white and bustling around a quickly arranged medical spot. All the camp looked like a miniature of a professional research base which had risen from the depths of the ground or fallen from the sky at one snap of fingers.

'Holy shit', Zhalia couldn't hide her amazement or reveal it in more proper words. 'She really gave it some stick, alright…'

'Sure thing she did', the chef rescuer said firmly, his moustache seemingly bushier from satisfaction. 'I thought a half of the connection management staff would drop dead from heart attack when she screamed to the receiver as if she was being skinned. You can only imagine our hurry when we heard that some… madman', Dante was sure the badger was going to use a more negatively marked word, but reminded himself of the ladies' presence (ignoring that one of them had just sworn like a sailor), 'blow the Heapstown Cairn away. With incidental bystanders still inside. And one of them was Dante Vale himself! How could we hesitate any longer?'

'Even if Scarlet was the prime mover, she wouldn't have done much without your support', he spoke quickly, a bit embarrassed about underlining his influence on the decision and not wanting anyone to point it out anymore. After all, not him had been the one in the deepest sh*t, he would have coped with the stalemate somehow, but Zhalia… No matter how adroit she was, all the circumstances had set against her, tying her hands. Freeing her had been their major goal… or at least he had thought so. 'Your professionalism saved my team. I really appreciate it', he bowed slightly.

'Don't mention it', the badger said, though seemed flattered. 'Protecting a life is always our top priority. And, at the same time, our greatest prize. Especially when the one we rescue is a living legend!', he burst into a loud laughter, wasting all Dante's effort to quickly move the topic to safer areas. 'Or pretty women…', he added meaningfully, peeking at Scarlet leaving pecks on every happily exposed cheek. 'Your friend really raised the morale in my team!'

Indeed, the rescuers apparently didn't mind that most of Byrne's face wasn't healed properly yet, admiring her remaining advantages nevertheless.

'If you want to pay us back yourself just as greatly, just sign some photos for our children and we'll be even', O'Donnell winked friendly. Dante hoped it was only a joke. Otherwise he would feel uneasy with all the glorification. The leader's later actions only proved that he didn't care as much for the gratification – he just turned around to his team, not carrying on the issue.

'Alright everybody, listen up!', he shouted to the boys, joining his hands on his back. 'Our main goal was achieved, but we're not done yet. Lynch, call Doc', he threw to one of his teammates who nodded and went off, carrying out his order. 'The rest of you, get ready', he said to the remaining teammates. 'We'll secure the area for the Crackers.'

Dante pricked his ears, curious who had earned such a codename. He intended to ask about that, but Zhalia went ahead of him.

'Isn't that too much?', she asked with apparent discontent, filling her lips. 'I know everyone wants to celebrate, but… hadn't we had enough of attractions for today even without the crackers?'

'Don't you worry', the man calmed her down. 'We really know our stuff. Better get some rest while we'll be handling things.'

'Am I supposed to sit and watch calmly how you endanger us all?!', she drawled edgily, placing both hands on her hips and slightly leaning forward, as if to accentuate her statement. 'Does your regulations allow you to play with the bangers next to a minefield?!'

No one even show any intentions to respond to her question. The leader just chuckled, ignoring her demanding stare, as if he thought the matter was too obvious to explain. He saluted and cleared off, joining his team. The rescuers didn't waste their time; in a blink of an eye, they brought metal barriers and started to place them around the entrance; the posts got joined with rolls of yellow caution tape. The team seemed very in synch; no one got tangled in the belts, no one tripped over the warning tubes, meanwhile, they found time and willingness to exchange casual jokes and small talks. Their snorts of quiet laughter filled the air every minute. Though they seemed to do their best to keep straight faces due to the seriousness of the case they were working on, it was obvious that the assault hadn't given them a very significant pip. There was no doubt that raising the spirits and loosening the tight atmosphere was mostly Scarlet's merit. Zhalia just wrinkled her nose in disdain, observing them, her eyes turned into cat-like slits. Dante had been exposed to such faces too often not to recognize what that look meant. Right now, she was most possibly furious about treating her like a burden or a silly, oversensitive chick. His suspicions only got proved when she snarled loudly and shook her head. She opened her mouth, about to make a cutting remark, but she was interrupted by a soft, female voice:

'Mr. O'Donnell is right, it's a time for you to have a break. As you remarked, your injuries need to be treated. Please, come in. We'll take care of you properly.'

The nurse, watching the scene for a while and waiting for a proper moment to enter the stage, raised the curtain covering the medical tent's entrance, inviting them inside with a kind gesture. However, any of them didn't seem eager to do so.

'Are those morons serious?', Zhalia ignored the nurse ostentatiously, still keeping a careful eye on O'Donnell's subordinates. 'I mean, just look at them', she uttered angrily, shaking her head and making her ruffled hair dance around her cheeks. 'They act as if they were organizing a picnic and going to watch fireworks.'

'There might be as many sparks', a strange, serious voice spoke behind Dante's back, 'but let's hope the action won't be more dangerous than that.'

Suddenly, they got surrounded by a group in dark overalls. When compared to the rescue team, the emergency workers looked like Bob the Builder's clones or road menders in their yellow hard hats and fluorescent vests. The newcomers' outfits connoted rather a Delta team: skin-tight, black fatigues with protective pads sewn on most strategic body parts, fingerless gloves, shiny helmets like skidlids and long boots laced-up to their knees, clumping so loudly that it was shocking that any of them hadn't paid attention to all the noise sooner; seemed like the omnipresent ado was the only factor to blame.

One of the newcomers stuck out from the crowd due to his lack of specialized uniform. It looked like he had just left some kind of office - in dark trousers, gray jacket and watery blue shirt the guy could even stand for a businessman or a manager. The helmet stuffed under his arm neglectfully seemed only to cumber him. The man was quite tall, slim and fit, though didn't stand exactly for a sportsman type. His clean shave underlined his smoothly curved chin and rather sophisticated, elongated features with a long, straight nose. He might be in his late twenties or early thirties; it was hard to determine due to his short, combed-back hair which looked grayish and added him some years. Dante hadn't seen such a strange color often, especially on rather young people. Completed by his rectangular rimless glasses with wide temple arms, his image could be described as a 'refined nerd'. The nurse didn't seem pleased to see him, observing him with crossed arms, but it couldn't be due to his looks; overall the man probably could be considered attractive, given that Scarlet quickly regained her control despite her shaky state. She twitched as if she had been pinched again (Dante furtively checked if Zhalia was keeping her hands off; she was). Then she rubbed her face and automatically frizzed her ruffled curls a bit, following her natural instinct. It could appear as if the guy caught Scarlet's bait, as he hurried to them, however, he passed by Byrne and ignored her completely, instead approaching Dante. When he got closer, his hair turned out to be dirty blond, almost brownish, with a plain, somewhat dusty shade, as if they got sifted by daub.

'I'm glad to see you all safe and sound', the guy said sincerely, standing among them to have a good view on all the interlocutors. Scarlet tried to catch his stare, but her efforts went to waste. The newcomer didn't show any special interest towards her, he seemed more preoccupied with the injuries he saw on each survivor as he looked them up and down.

'I'm very sorry you had to go through all of this', he added apologetically, his lenses flashed shortly as he lowered his head for a moment in a quasi-bow. 'However', he underlined, straightening up firmly, 'we would be more than honored to lift that bargain off your shoulders for now. There's no need to bother; we are the ones called Crackers. It's our pet name among our colleagues. Officially, we are named SPARK…', he tapped at the small badge strapped to a lanyard hanging from his breast pocket.

'Which stands for?', Zhalia interrupted him bluntly; her crossed arms and raised brow clearly gave out her impatience with the dragging intro. Dante, however, took a closer look at the label. He had thought the emblem on the card showed the Huntik Foundation symbol: three lines, each topped with a dot and crossed by the others in two thirds of its length. However, two curved side bars were stylized as forked bolts and the central one got crowned with a six-pointed star; the name of the formation ran down the stripe.

'Specialized Power Activities Removal Commando', the identification tag owner explained the acronym and then, not giving them enough time to analyze the abbreviation's accuracy, he added diligently: 'Please, do not pay attention to the small dissidence of 'Commando' not exactly matching the 'K' initial'…'

Zhalia just rolled her eyes over such pedantry, as if she had wanted to say: '_Man, no one except of you does._'

'We're a highly specialized EOD team', the man continued, giving up on his meticulousness, 'undergoing a standard state training and a complex program exclusive for the Huntik Foundation…'

'Wait, wait, I got lost on the EOD part', Zhalia raised her hands in a defensive manner, overwhelmed by the news. 'What is that?'

'Explosive Ordnance Disposal', Dante was glad he didn't lack knowledge in that topic completely. 'Simply put, defusing bombs.'

'Yes, you can say it this way', the grayish-headed guy nodded and fixed his glasses which slightly slid down his nose, 'though it's not our only destination. Before eliminating a single explosive, we'd rather collect the data to analyze, find a method to counter it and reduce the threat in the future. Given the info I received, we will have a lot of work here…', he straightened up, looking at the destroyed cairn. Then he heaved a sigh. 'I wonder which kind of force turned our national pride into a pile of rubbish…'

'For your information, your 'national pride' could become our grave', Zhalia snarled, 'so I'm not gonna mourn over that loss, a hill of stones standing uselessly in an empty field... I'd rather rejoice I wasn't torn apart as well', she finished spitefully.

'Ah, I didn't mean it', the man corrected himself rapidly, embarrassed of his previous comment. 'Of course your survival was the most important goal of ours. However, damaging such a valuable source of knowledge about our ancestors shot right through our sense of belonging and certainty of research. We hadn't thought anyone would be so bold to threaten our treasure, right under our nose, and it's hard to believe that a single man dealt with a monument of cultural inheritance which sustained centuries in relatively fine state…', he shook his head in shock.

'Well, good thing it withstood until now', she continued sarcastically. 'You had enough time to rave over it, but I haven't lived so long yet. Guess I'd have to in order to get just a half of your department's concern, given that you're interested in worn-out heritage symbols more than in your staff…'

'Please forgive Zhalia', Dante interrupted conciliatingly seeing how the SPARK chef twitched and winced, possibly offended by such accusations. Vale knew Moon's harsh attitude too well to mind her stone-heavy words, but for a new acquaintance, they could be kind of confusing and result in seeing her as a rude jerk. He didn't want the SPARK chef to have a bad impression of her and ignoring all the deeds she could be proud of. Her overreaction made Dante realize what a soft spot had gotten hit in her. Hell, he couldn't blame her for rudeness, a way to deal with her raging emotions, knowing all she'd been through today. 'Her nerves are in tatters and that's why she's saying many things without thinking.'

'Shut the hell up', she reprimanded him bluntly, suddenly losing interest in bombarding the SPARK man with her piercing stares and turning to him abruptly. 'I don't need a barrister, especially such a lame one! And, hell, I don't take anything back! I can say sanely again that my life is far more precious that a bucket of rocks!', her voice timbre was raising due to aggravation that had taken over her. She looked as if she had been about to explode herself.

'Really, Doc!', an amused yet hoarsing voice rang unclearly, as if it had been coming through a crammed gable vent and echoing in an air duct, 'you've finally found a woman suiting your tastes, a real explosive in a human-shaped shell!'

The SPARK member, called Doc, twitched and pursed his thin lips so hard that they resembled a hairbreadth line. He looked above his shoulder and just noticed that one of the black uniform men appeared by his side, wandering off the group. He couldn't be distinguished from the others, given that he had had the helmet on and the tinted transparent glass of his visor was impenetrable for a bare eye. It shocked Dante that the leader didn't have a problem to do so.

'Clear off, Brady', he spat shortly.

'Damn, you recognized me again', the Brady guy sighed (which, due to its raucous timbre, sounded as if Darth Vader had come from the Death Star to speak with the Earthmen), then reached to the straps keeping his helmet in place and unbuckled them. 'I can't have the element of surprise even with that outfit on.'

'It's all due to your lame jokes', Doc informed him with fatigue, raising his head to the sky, as if he was taking it for a witness how much he had to stand. 'You were supposed to prepare the area for my examination.'

'We're all rough and ready', the man answered, dealing with the last fastener. 'It's just you who keeps on chattering. I can quite understand that, as there is a lot of interesting personas, two of whom are beautiful women…', the helmet finally come off and revealed a wide smile which was kind of discernable in the male voice. The grin underlined a small dimple in the newcomer's cleft chin, covered in dark stubble as well as his whole prominent jaw, and showed a set of teeth which seemingly didn't know the damages of smoking nor drinking coffee. They were almost radiating on the background of the man's tanned complexion, contrasting also with his dark crew cut and brownish eyes. This coloration was a bit odd among Irish people, known for their fair skin, light-colored hair and pale irises. Such difference from other native individuals or descendants from Ireland puzzled even the world researchers, resulting in establishing a new phenotype called 'Black Irish'.

Surprisingly, young women also paid a special attention to that phenomenon. Scarlet didn't seem to have any biologist aspirations, however, she might have developed ones more willingly if every test subject had been a handsome guy. Even though she hadn't had a very pleasant day, she probably considered her current situation a paradise, given that attractive men kept mushrooming around her in a flash. Right now, she apparently couldn't believe in her luck. She focused on examining Brady's face attentively, as if she had been going to devour him. He noticed that and turned to her friendly. Before he managed to make a first step, Scarlet rushed to attack.

'Haven't we met before?', she asked curiously.

The man blinked, stuffing his helmet under his arm and knitting his eyebrows a bit.

'I'm not certain', he said hesitantly, taking a closer look at her and trying to see through the plasters on her cheeks. 'Your face does look familiar, but… I can't tell for sure…'

'Maybe I'm just mistaken', she brushed her locks onto her back. 'I could just imagine your face on the TV screen, 'cause you strongly resemble Ben Affleck…', she remarked in passing. 'Anyway, nice to meet you, I'm Scarlet Byrne', she said with a charming smile, as if she snapped back to usual self - still present and fine despite the recent hardships and external stains left by them.

The man's lips parted, then he burst into a satisfied laughter.

'I knew I had a good feeling!', he exclaimed with his eyes sparkling cheerfully, unburring his right glove. 'You were the Debutante Ball Queen of Colaiste na Sceilge in 2003, weren't you?'

'Yes, that's right', she admitted, content that he pointed out that detail and checking if everyone had heard that. 'How do you know?'

'I remember you receiving the award', he explained. 'It was during my debs, after all. You might not recall it, but I went to the same school, only two years higher. Your partner Daniel O'Reilly was my classmate.'

'Oh really?', she fluttered her lashes, not even minding that the tears had washed the mascara off them completely. 'Did you vote for me?', she asked coquettishly.

'Not exactly', he confessed sincerely with a smile which wasn't really all that apologizing. 'However, it didn't matter in the end, right? You won nevertheless', he added seeing how Scarlet's face fell. 'Matthew Brady', he finally stuffed the glove into his pocket and quickly reached his hand out to move the topic to the safer zones.

'Oh… oh yeah!', Scarlet's eyes shone in sudden realization as she took his hand; she quickly forgot about the man's past crime of not acknowledging her astonishing beauty. 'Matthew Brady, the leading goalscorer of our school team!'

'Well, just until I broke my leg during the last soccer season in secondary', he admitted with a far-fetched lightness. 'Ah, nevermind', he waved his hand dismissively, thus breaking the shake. 'You probably weren't all that interested in sports back then… and it's been a long time ago. Many things have changed since then…', he remarked, staring at his badge thoughtfully. He fell silent for a moment, then carried on: 'I haven't expected us to meet in such circumstances. I didn't even know you joined the Foundation… and were a part of such a renowned team', he looked at her comrades, regaining his previous spirit. 'You must be Dante Vale, pleasure to meet you', he caught Dante's hand and shook it shortly, yet heartily, 'and you, Miss…', he addressed Zhalia, 'aren't you the bomb we're going to secure? From what I noticed before, you happen to have a very… _detonative_ temper, if you let me get away with that pun', he winked teasingly.

No one learnt if Zhalia really showed her limited clemency for such a cheesy joke, as McKenna cleared his throat meaningfully.

'I hate to interrupt', Doc said, 'but I guess talking won't take us any closer to straightening things up here.'

'Yeah, let me guess, you haven't even introduced yourself properly, McKenna', Brady cracked reproachfully, 'just not to waste your breath.'

Doc cleared his throat again. Previously he didn't show any signs of having a hoarseness, so it was obvious that he just tried to hide his embarrassment.

'That's right, I forgot', he admitted reluctantly. 'Please, forgive me my absent-mindedness. Brendan McKenna', he reached his hand out to Zhalia who shook it hesitantly, caught off guard, murmuring her name. 'As you noticed, people tend to use my last name addressing me…'

'Only when they don't call you a tight-ass and four-eyes geek', Matthew added like a mischievous sprite when the doctor was greeting the new acquaintances.

McKenna flashed an angry look above his shoulder, then cleared his throat in embarrassment for the third time.

'Well, I wouldn't mind hearing any of those from a team of your successes and bravery', he said elegantly, though still seemed uneasy. Brady noticed that and nudged him lightly.

'In fact, it's usually me who calls him that…', he added to soften the previous sentence. 'We've been best friends since I became Huntik civil worker, so I sometimes forget I should be more respectful towards my recently appointed superior. Doctor McKenna is a nuclear physics expert and an explosive weapons fre… enthusiast', he corrected himself so quickly that maybe no one except Dante had heard his blunder. 'Last year he replaced the retired Professor Hayes as the head of the Huntik Foundation Irish laboratories. He's in charge of SPARK exclusively for this mission, as we thought we would need his skills and knowledge on the Seeker abilities.'

'That's right', McKenna admitted, loosening a bit and regaining his professional attitude. 'According to the data I received from the sensory and monitoring department, the power activity in the cairn passed the critical level. We need to check how it influenced the surroundings, particularly, if there aren't traces of this destructive energy left underground, waiting to be triggered.'

Dante nodded, approving of the plan. He didn't know much about that field of work, so he was glad that could entrust the operations to a more competent operative. So far, McKenna proved that he really knew his stuff and would do his best to handle it effectively. However, there was something else bothering Dante, something he should have asked about initially; the fact that he hadn't done so yet proved that maybe the nurse was right with her urge to check on his state. Unfortunately, before he voiced his thoughts, the medical worker herself joined the talk.

'Pardon me, doctor', she spoke politely, though she didn't especially try to cover a slight impatience for neglecting her presence for so long, 'but those three have just been rescued from a minefield and, as you see, suffered some major damages. Could you please finish the talk when all of them find themselves bandaged and treated properly?'

'Yeah, McKenna', Brady patted his colleague's shoulder. 'Let's move the chatter for later, alright? We've got something to do as well, the guys are waiting for us. And the trio barely keeps their feet. They need to get some healing.'

'I can wait', Dante said sternly, still rubbing his side to ease the tension occupying his flesh. 'If there's a necessity, then ladies go first.'

'No, I'm fine', Scarlet simpered, smoothing the plasters on the left side of her face; compared to her red hair, they looked like white spots on a toadstool. 'I'll be OK without a treatment a bit longer.'

'I don't need it as well', Zhalia mumbled, a bit offended by assuming her limitations. 'I'm perfectly fine, fresh like a daisy, dammit.'

The nurse peeked at her doubtfully, unerringly noticing every hole in her clothes, revealing the scratches, and bruises scattered here and there across her arms and cleavage. The medical worker pursed her lips tightly. She had to have an experience with stubborn patients, because she quickly dealt with each case in the most accurate way possible. She picked up the weakest-willed target and started to eliminate the troublemakers one by one.

'The gashes might leave scars if not dealt with quickly', she remarked pointedly.

'Oh no!', Scarlet touched her cheeks in horror and ran into the tent as if she had been catapulted.

Dante didn't even wait for his turn to be lured inside.

'Let's just go', he encouraged his teammate, much to the medical worker's acceptance. She probably had enough of rampaging patients. However, the real reason for Vale to be so obedient was much simpler than respect towards the health service. He just surrendered willingly to the natural order of matters to be dealt with, accepting that there were things impossible to overcome - he had nothing in his mouth since noon and every thought about anything just related to food caused his guts to twine. The remembrance of home-made sandwiches hidden in his backpack by the far-sighted Mrs. Lambert only doubled the hunger symptoms. His stomach quickly gave him away, rumbling loudly.

Zhalia just chuckled meanly, shaking her head. She wasn't the one driven easily by such cheap tricks. However, her angry puffs got dampened by her belly accompanying Dante's, creating a perfectly harmonious tune of grumbling guts. She looked at it in puzzlement, then winced and shrugged negligently.

'So what?', she commented haughtily the nurse's victorious stare and the peek Matthew directed to his friend meaningfully, barely hiding his amusement. 'It's all due to blabbering about crackers. Even a stone would get hungry, wouldn't it?'

'Of course', Dante murmured for peace and quiet, allowing her through. She threw her head up proudly and stepped forward. Vale didn't follow her at instant, which met with the nurse's chafe. He murmured 'One moment, please' and approached the subject he was the most interested in.

'What are you gonna do with the runaway?', he asked curiously before McKenna and Brady left. He noticed that Zhalia stopped in the doorway and also became all ears, as if she had just waited for that topic to come up. 'I hope you got to know about him and took the security measurements, didn't you?'

'We did', McKenna admitted. 'However, we can't do anything.'

'Are you gonna let the criminal escape?', Vale asked more sharply, not content with the answer.

'Don't worry', he calmed Dante down, seeing how he furrowed his brow. 'I just meant that it's not our, SPARK's, branch of work. We are here just to clear things up. The pursuit department promised to send us an investigation specialist. We're waiting for his arrival.'

'Doctor!', the gopher O'Donnell had sent before, called Lynch, shouted, running to them and stopping halfway up the hill. 'The chasing squad will be there in fifteen minutes!'

Dante excused himself and rushed to the two, and thus, displeased the nurse, whose patient had slipped away again, and Zhalia, who immediately felt tricked as she had been thrown to the medical workers on her own. Much to the operative's annoyance, the nurse was determined to stymie her attempts to join her teammate. Both women weren't going to surrender willingly, trying to force their ways, so the scuffle intensified every second. Abnormally, Vale decided not to stand by Zhalia's side. He agreed with the medical staff that once she was lured to the health care spot, it was better to perch her in place, otherwise she would buzz around showing a dreadful unconcern for her well-being. He couldn't let that happen, not after all the time he had been so helpless in the matters concerning Moon's welfare. His condition was a different issue. He should have also put it as the priority, but he willingly made the choice to withstand his injuries a bit longer. First, he urged to have a moment to take a closer look at his senior.

However, all he could see was a row of black cars driving through the sandy paths on the horizon, one of them possibly carrying the subject of two friends talk. Dante estimated that they would reach their destination in approximately ten minutes, less than Lynch had predicted.

'F*ck', Brady hissed sharply. Dante turned his glare at him, a bit surprised by that reaction which he hadn't expected from the seemingly cheerful, good-humored Cracker. However, when he took a closer look at the guy, the first impression seemed to be only a mirage. The smile from the SPARK member's face vanished like erased with a rubber, his tightened, sharpened jaw line appeared able to pierce the skin like a dagger. Even the dimple in his chin lost its cheeky charm, turning into a chisel-made slit. 'Him? Here?! How the hell is that possible?!'

'Inspector Murray?', the doctor whispered, shocked as well as he stared at the dark cord of vehicles. 'How come?!'

'You tell me! Who is the mastermind here?!', Brady looked at his friend seriously, his milk chocolate eyes gelling into two coffee drops. 'But, damn it… That old rascal, from all the detectives available?! You can't be serious, McKenna!'

'I was as clueless as you', the doctor snarled at him. 'I thought he was moved to County Cork…'

'And he better stayed there', Brady commented, clenching his fists. 'You could count me out of this mission if I knew Murray would be around.'

'The situation is too taxing to add more troubles to our list, so please stop acting childish', McKenna reproached him. 'I'm used to your sulking in that one particular matter, but Mr. Vale', he peeked at the mentioned one suggestively, 'doesn't have to witness it. Better put yourself together before the inspector arrives.'

'Too late', Brady said gloomily, looking at the valley. 'He's almost here already.'

McKenna nervously fixed the glasses sliding down his nose.

'I have to greet him', he said, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. 'Excuse me', he nodded to Dante and rushed down the hill.

'I'm coming with you', Vale declared, not repulsed, but curious about the two friends' behavior.

However, before he made more than a step forward, Brady stopped him by pushing a hand against his shoulder.

'Don't be in such a hurry to the worst part of the evening', he advised him, keeping an eye contact.

'What do you mean?', he asked curiously, knitting his eyebrows. 'I thought we're over with that…'

'You'll see it yourself soon enough', Matthew said shortly, shaking his head with resignation, 'and, believe me, you will only regret it.'

'Brady', McKenna threw warningly, already on the move.

'Yeah, yeah', the man winced. 'Be talking to you later', he murmured to Dante and before Vale managed to respond, he followed the leader, putting his insect-head-like helmet back and leaving the Seeker stunned. He intended to follow them nevertheless, but he got perched in place by the nurse pulling him by the arm.

'You should leave the case to the Irish operatives, Mr. Vale', she pointed out gently. 'The only thing that should occupy your mind is your health. It's enough of guests and events for now', she judged. 'Please, come in at last.'

Dante hesitated, looking at the two friends disappearing as they came down the hill. Finally, he surrendered to the medical worker, accepting the asylum. However, his mind was far from a resting state as his detective acumen sensed a new riddle to solve.

**15th July 2009, Wednesday, 19:03**

**Carrowkeel**

**County Sligo**

**Ireland**

Dante hissed with irritation when the nurse examined his abdomen; thought the woman was very careful with the contusion, every slightest touch was bringing pain for the patient nevertheless.

'No whining!', the nurse silenced him, but pulled her hand away mercifully. 'You're reaping what you sow. That's exactly what you get delaying the treatment.'

Dante could only agree with her whether he liked it or not. He knew that his injury's bad state was his own fault. He should have taken care of it right after he had emerged from the tomb. If he had done so, the bruise probably wouldn't look so terrible that the nurse's first words after he obediently took his clothes off his upper body had been: 'Good heavens!' The awful hematoma spread through his whole belly, resembling flames engulfing his skin voraciously, especially due to its coloration – dark red on the edges and deep purplish, almost bluish in the center, where the metal inset of the goon's military boot had hit. The other abrasions and scratches, dotted around the reddish contusion, looked like sparks showering from a firework, however, compared to the central wound, were a snap to deal with. Most of them disappeared as quickly as the nurse used the standard medical power, Everheal, however, her face suggested that getting rid of the bruise would take some more time.

'Was the conversation worth such a sacrifice?', the nurse shook her head, standing up. 'The only thing I could agree with during the whole talk was that you are not in a proper state to participate in the investigation. I can understand that finding the attacker is an urgent matter, but not more important that health, for heaven's sake!', Dante observed how she buzzed in the tent, looking for something inside many of the bags with the equipment, scattered on the folding stools, and scolded in the meantime: ' You haven't escaped the death to beg for it with your behavior just now… Oh my, where is that medicine?!'

'Yet I'm not supposed to lie down just now', Dante remarked gloomily, uneasy with his idleness. 'I should help the others.'

'Don't worry', the medical worker calmed him down, still searching through the medical kits. 'I can assure you it's not the first time the Sligo compound deals with such a case. It's true that most of us prefer to stay outside the field, but we're ready to face the extremes if necessary. Every task is in the right hands, so you can relax.'

It was probably meant to placate Dante, however, he wasn't all that convinced, not after witnessing the two friends' hectic talk. If the roles were assigned properly, then why had Brady questioned choosing inspector Murray as the investigation supervisor? Why both of them were so nervous about that decision? And why had they tried to hide their anxiety from Dante? Well, the last mystery wasn't probably all that difficult to solve - they probably didn't want to show their weaknesses to the Huntik Foundation so-called celebrity, very close to the upper class of the company and influential on their society… As if the first Dante would do was complaining at the people who had saved his whole team! He regretted that his holotome stayed out of his reach; if he had had it nearby, he would check the Foundation records and get to know Murray better. As it was forbidden for now, he tried to find another way of satisfying his curiosity.

'Sister', he said to her back. 'Do you know inspector Murray?'

The woman peeked at him, blinking in surprise.

'Why is it troubling you now?', she asked, but quickly lost the interest, finally reaching her target. She drew out a small jar and read the label, putting it close to her eyes.

'Just asking', he shrugged. 'I don't know much of the Sligo staff and I would certainly like to.'

The nurse wondered for a moment, staring pensively at the light fabric walls.

'Well, inspector Murray isn't exactly a part of our facility', she said slowly, 'so I only heard about him… People usually praise his deeds', she recalled. 'They say he has never let any culprit run away further than fifteen miles from the crime scene.'

Dante nodded, though urban legends weren't exactly what he wanted to hear. If the inspector was such a praiseworthy officer, why his arrival aroused so much tension? He still stared at the nurse expectantly and she finally noticed it, approaching him and putting the bandages and the ointment next to his hip. She was silent for a moment, rummaging through the hoard of her mind and preparing the treatment meanwhile.

'He is also very strict and hates bungling', she continued, sinking her fingers into the transparent salve, then placed them against the bruise. Dante sighed with relief when she started to smear the sticky and pleasantly chill unguent, cooling his angry-looking wound. 'He usually works only with his special squad of chasers and has a hard time cooperating with the people he didn't choose himself. Reportedly, he was once a part of the Dublin Compound forces, but moved to another base due to his conflict with its head. But that's only gossips', she shrugged, adding the finishing move and then wiping her hands off in a pearly-white towel. 'One can never believe in them. Besides, his successes are the only thing that really matters, right?'

'I… think so', Dante said slowly, reluctantly, not sure if he really did.

The loud groan of pain escaping his mouth kept him from another comments and dwelling about the grabbed thread of the riddle. He lowered his head, his muscles tensed, a drop of sweat slid down his forehead and fell onto his abdomen; strange thing it didn't vaporize right away, as now his injury was burning just like a real flame, additionally brightened by a golden gleam emitted from the nurse's hands.

'I'm sorry', she said. 'The ointment was supposed to help the healing energy come through your skin and reach the damaged cells. It has to hurt a bit.'

Dante nodded, clenching his teeth as the pain intensified. He hadn't thought that the Organization goon's kick would leave such a serious injury, even if he had felt like throwing his insides out right after that. He realized that if there had been any of his teammates in his place, such a blow would have broken her ribs like twigs. He hoped Zhalia, even during her attempts to flee, hadn't been exposed to such hits. He couldn't check it himself, as they had gotten separated – she had been taken to the other part of the tent, probably due to the necessity to cure the gashes scattered across her body, also those under her blouse and trousers. Hell, such a vacuity… just a peek at a topless woman would be quite a capable painkiller… Focusing on the nurse's cleavage didn't bring just as much relief, given the torment she was inflicting. Damn, how could other guys fantasize about any medical service member?! Vale didn't downgrade their profession, as he had exploited it many times, but he was far from raving over anyone giving injections, fumbling in guts or slopping out the patients' chamberpots.

Luckily, the tortures were slowly coming to an end as bruise started to shrink, just like a flame diminishing when turning off the stove. It was just as bluish, then changed to a shallow color, so much alike burnt butter, soaking into his flesh like into an absorptive sponge. Soon, there was just a small spot which quickly got swallowed as if his navel had been a plughole sucking a tiny spider in. When the nurse backed her hands, the skin was as good and intact as new, the only visible sign of the recent injury being the lucid trail of the ointment.

'Done', the medical worker estimated, wiping a light strand from her forehead; her temples were wet from sweat, indicating that the healing took much of her than it seemed. 'I guess the external damage was defused. However, as the cells are still rebuilding, this part may be a bit sensitive for a while. You can put your clothes back on, but please stay lying down and abstain from moving for half an hour.'

Dante must've admitted that though nurses didn't draw him as sexual objects, he really owed them a lot of respect for like a dozen times of taking care of him. Thus, he decided to cooperate willingly and pay this one off at least that way.

'I'll come check on you then', the nurse informed him, 'though I'm sure there won't be any complications if you just listen to the prescriptions. Now I should join my colleagues, they may need a hand.'

'Thank you a lot', Dante said gratefully, calling a faint smile onto her lips. 'Sister…', he stopped her before she left. 'I know I demand a lot from you, but could you please pay a special attention if my teammates are alright?'

'That's what I'm going to do', she responded soothingly. 'We will take good care of them. Please, relax from now and don't let it trouble you.'

Dante smiled back, his heart a bit lighter than before. As she left, he dressed up as energetically as the wound let him, covering the injury with the sweater feeling rather rough against it. To make up for all the bothering, he straightened his back on the camp bed and intended to follow the nurse's orders, however, after five minutes of staring at the linen ceiling, he got tired of his idleness and urged to do anything. He looked at his backpack forgotten next to the entrance, reminding himself about the holotome hidden inside. He couldn't be sure that it would catch the signal and allow him to browse the Huntik database, however, it was worth trying. He raised on his elbow, then slid both legs onto the ground and sat up, leaning on the bedstead. He quickly regretted it as his body protested against such activities – his head rushed, his vision blurred and then darkened completely. When he regained his normal sight, he noticed that the entrance was shaded by a tall, dark figure.

'You shouldn't blacken your brows', the man commented, leaning on the tent frame. 'I know it's trendy, but doesn't suit you at all.'

'Very funny', Dante mechanically rubbed his face and examined his fingers to see if he had washed himself properly, wiping away all the dirt gathered in the tomb. Luckily, there wasn't even a speck of grime on his fingertips. That joke was certainly in a certain person's taste…

'May I come in?', Brady asked, taking a step forward. Before Dante managed to say anything, he was already in, taking a seat at the free folding stool. He slumped onto it and leaned forward, letting his helmet slip away from his hands and land between his feet. Then he drew out a hanky and started to brush the sweat off his face, hair and neck.

'Man, those nutshells are a pain in the ass, you can't imagine', he sulked, hiding the kerchief back in the pocket and drawing a pack of cigarettes instead. 'Mind if I have a smoke?'

'I thought EOD workers aren't allowed to smoke', Dante remarked, a bit surprised that Matthew's appearance tricked him by lacking any obvious signs of smoking back then, for example grayish teeth and yellowish stains on his fingers.

'Not at work, that's for sure', Brady gave out a short chuckle, stuffing the snog into his mouth and patting his pocket again, then the others as well. 'Damn', he mumbled, knitting his brows. 'I forgot the lighter. That's the problem when you're not exactly addict…'

He cut short when the end of his ciggy ignited suddenly. Brady took a squint at it, then at Dante, who lowered his hand, a small reddish spark fading away from between his knuckles.

'Comes in handy', Brady judged, catching the snog in half. 'Good thing to be a Seeker… sometimes…'

'You're not?', Dante guessed.

'Nope', the Cracker denied quickly, breathing the smoke in and closing his eyes in delight. 'Ah, that's way better…', he exhaled. 'You know, I don't do it casually, but right now I feel like chain-smoke', he explained his nicotine hunger.

'A hard day?', Dante started to feel like a table tennis star, directing fast, short serves.

'Uhm', Brady admitted unclearly, with his mouth plastered to the snog again and his expression smoothing slowly thanks to its relaxing influence.

'Because of inspector Murray?', Dante made the deciding shot. If he had been cut off the Foundation data, he had to count on other info sources. 'I noticed how you and doctor McKenna reacted hearing about his arrival.'

That move was more like hitting a bull's-eye. Brady's face tightened again; his lids came up abruptly, the cigarette almost falling from his hands before he caught it adroitly between his middle and ring finger.

'Crap', he murmured, rolling the snog between his knuckles before it fell onto the right place and still keeping his eye on the Seeker. 'I thought I wouldn't be the one investigated today…'

'You were the one insisting on the talk', Dante reminded him strictly. 'If you are not eager anymore, then why did you come at all? I don't mind a chatter, but it won't make me forget about your strange behavior.'

'A down-to-earth guy you are', Brady smirked approvingly. 'Fine, that will probably make many things easier. I wanted to warn you', he got straight to the point, leaning forward and continuing in a conspiratorial whisper: 'Keep away from Murray.'

Dante couldn't say he was exactly surprised. He had expected something like this. After all, he wasn't a halfwit, he could associate the basic facts. Brady's antipathy towards the officer was just obvious for a private eye with a six years experience and a Seeker used to solving more complex mysteries than animosities between colleagues. However, Vale was interested how the Cracker would justify them.

He had to wait for it. For a moment, Brady just stared at the cloud of smoke he created above their heads. He kept silent until the grayish trail didn't fade away.

'If you think', he spoke finally, 'that the Organization bruiser was the worst kind of guy you've ever met, you're terribly wrong. It may sound crazy… Who could be worse than a crackpot who didn't hesitate to blow the f*ck out of the whole cairn? Well, there's a certain sort of people who surpass him by all means. When shit happens, they're there in a blink, like flies on shit, and Murray is certainly one of them, he likes stinky cases', he chuckled, but the laughter quickly turned into a long cough. 'Damn it…', he hoarsed. 'See, I can't even mention his name not to choke… That's why I usually call him a dungball', he joked.

Dante didn't respond with a laughter. Brady noticed his stillness and his expression faded as well.

'You don't believe me', he stated.

'That's not it', Dante said evasively, but truthfully. It wasn't that he doubted Brady's sincerity, he just couldn't have the certainty that the EOD worker wasn't exaggerating casual things to suit his story. From what Dante had noticed, Brady wasn't exactly a hard-working, dedicated type. Otherwise he wouldn't be there chattering and having a smoke, but out there with his colleagues, breaking his back. Maybe inspector Murray, whom the nurse had described as very stern and industrious, was just another person to notice that and point it out to the lazy butt? Maybe the cocky youngster didn't like being lectured and now sought the way to get his little revenge? 'I just don't know why you are telling me that', Vale added, wanting to clear the doubts.

'Cause I know Murray better that I would like to', Brady answered willingly. 'I don't want him to screw anyone else's life, like he's doing with mine. He's an extremely biased person, you can't even imagine how far it goes. One wrong move and you're screwed. He would chew you up, swallow, digest and then drop as a grogan.'

Dante nodded, though it was intended to prove his own suspicions right rather than agree with the Cracker. He had used too many heavy accusations without any examples to make Vale convinced that his words had been more than yelping of a resentful slob.

'Is that a part of your rivalry?', Vale asked him directly yet calmly, leaning on his knees and looking straight into his eyes. 'Setting me against him?'

'What?', Brady exclaimed, lowering his cigarette so abruptly that it fell onto the ground; this time he didn't even try to catch it.

'If you take me for a person', Dante drawled while the snog was smoldering on the soil, 'who settles his opinion without exchanging a single word with someone, you're terribly mistaken. As long as I don't have a reason to take any side, I'm not gonna participate in your conflict.'

Any muscle didn't move in Brady's face. It was still like a mask, which only doubled his resemblance to Ben Affleck… a waxy statue in Madame Tussaud's, specifically.

'As you prefer', he said chillily with a faint, ostentatious smirk. 'Such a pity my speech went to waste.'

'I'm sorry', Dante shook his head firmly; however, genuine remorse didn't sound in his words.

'You'll be for sure', Brady murmured, but it didn't sound exactly like a threat. Rather like a disappointment. 'It won't be only our conflict soon. You can bet on it. Just remember that I told you so.'

He stood up wearily, lifting the helmet and crushing the durry with his military boot as he headed to the exit, not paying attention to Dante anymore. However, before he made the step outside the tent, he had to back not to be ran over by a man in quite a hurry, who hadn't noticed the burden unless he bumped right into it. However, it turned out to be just the thing he tried to achieve.

'Here you are, Brady', McKenna sighed, facing his friend and fixing the glasses which tilted on their place. 'I've been looking for you. Better go back outside and just pretend to be busy. Don't give Murray any new reasons to write another negative report to Professor Hayes.'

'Screw it', Brady shook his head resignedly. 'I've been slogging away at the security doing my best, now it's all settled, so I'm not gonna make a fool of myself just to look fine in no one's eyes. Murray wouldn't notice my dedication and turn the tables on me even if I tore my guts out. Maybe I should, just to convince some other stubborn superstars', he growled meaningfully, peeking at Dante haughtily.

'That would be the best you have done today, Brady!', he got interrupted exasperatedly.

The two friends turned around in sync abruptly, like ballet masters from 'The Swan Lake', though with quite an unfitting clothing and attitude, to face something that was hidden from Dante's eyes by their backs.

'Inspector Murray, sir!', McKenna exclaimed as he and Brady backed, giving the way to the three newcomers entering the tent.

Dante quickly jumped onto his feet as he didn't want to remain rude towards a possibly older and estimable person. He quickly forgot about the argument with Brady, focusing all his attention on the man he could have finally met and check if the youngster's dislike was understandable or not. However, first a pair of men in brown blouses, with their faces so plain, common and middlebrow that he wouldn't give them a second look passing by them on the street, entered the tent and stood on each side of the entrance. Then, it got shaded completely, covering the interior in the dimness, and the main actor entered the stage. When he did, Dante had a hard time hiding his surprise and keeping his jaw in place.

He hadn't expected any image in particular, as he wasn't a man who judged people by appearances or had a certain stereotypical picture of any profession's workers, but he couldn't fight with an impression that this guy didn't exactly fit the words 'pursuit'. It rather gave an impression of a physically strong, sinewy daredevil who would follow the culprit even on his own feet, just like a bloodthirsty wolf hunting its prey. This guy looked as if he would barely keep his feet after a fifteen minutes long walk through the tomb. It was not that Dante was biased, he just thought that inspector should at least keep in shape and not to lack basic physical abilities, just in case his work moved from gathering intelligence and analyzing it to an open field. The man wasn't exactly obese, however, there was a time when even people slim like rakes for their whole life had to be aware of their weight. An oval rise of his belly showed that he was losing the fight with calories. His wrinkles got soaked in fat; his face looked like a clump of dough, with a bulbous nose in the centre, acting as the support for granny specs with a small chain attached to each arm and sinking in the sweaty furrows of his neck. To complete the image, he wore creased, leather boots, loose, brown pants, densely checked shirt with the collar unbuttoned and revealing a white undershirt. Brady snarled under her breath and murmured something which sounded like a disapproval of the fad which caused some geezers to wear warm clothes even in a 30 degrees scorch. Dante would rather call him 'middle-aged' - depending on his receding hairline, remains of salt-and-pepper curls behind his ears and sagging cheeks, his age could vary from forty five to sixty – however, it was not that mistake what struck him the most. Observing the man ascending the hill and puffing loudly under his nose arose overwhelming displeasure, pity and uneasiness, so he could understand Brady's reaction. At the first sight, he had also promised himself that he would quit the job once he wouldn't be able to run a hundred meters without breaking a sweat and spitting his lungs out. It would spare his colleagues a sad realization of him advancing in years.

However, shame stung him just as quickly as he realized he was being prideful. It was easy to feel superior before thirties, when the metrics spoke at one's merit. Detesting a process which would reach everyone sooner or later, natural, not a cause of humiliation, was a bigger reason to feel embarrassed. Besides, today he had a foretaste of the constant hospitalization and disability to act on his own. Who knew if tomorrow he wouldn't fall ill and be in a far worse position, even being still young? When he realized that, sympathy overflowed him as he additionally reminded himself of the bedridden Metz. Yes… sometimes limitations and dependence on other people came way sooner than expected, and not on someone one would point at as the obvious victim...

He decided he would show the man as much respect and acknowledgement as he could. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult if the man was really a praiseworthy officer?

'Lovely weather for chatters! Pleasant gusts of air full of detonation smoke and gunpowder, really refreshing!', Murray cracked in a tone which could be seen as both joking and cantankerous, equally… and quickly got proved to be just one of them. 'Ah, and in that scenery, the two joint at the hip again! It's not like something new with you, Brady, given that you always have something to say, especially when you are supposed to get down to work! Shame my petitions for lowering your payment don't give any results, despite the obvious signs of your slacking off…'

'That's what I was talking about', the SPARK member mumbled with a crooked smile to anyone in particular, as he stared at his military boots.

'Good evening, sir', meanwhile, McKenna took the initiative, interrupting the long stream of biting remarks in a surprisingly calm, collected voice, remaining in cold blood. 'Your concern is really admirable, but unwarranted. Sergeant Brady was dismissed after the SPARK members finished their preparations. They are currently waiting for further orders.'

'I didn't think that you, McKenna, would enjoy such companionship after getting promoted!', the man pursed his lips with disgust, which gave him an expression of an infuriated potato. 'I guess you should change the environment, as I suggested you, if you don't want to get moved to another laboratory, biologic maybe, due to your attachment towards parasites… I hope you are aware that setting private affections above occupational obligations won't help you maintain your reputation…'

'I beg your pardon, sir', McKenna nodded slightly, much to Brady's dissatisfaction, 'but my true goal was consulting with the rescue team and the survivors, particularly Mr. Vale and…'

The man's eyes flashed in the bags created by his sagging skin and landed on Dante.

'Of course', he drawled. He left McKenna and came closer to Vale, who awaited him calmly. The man raised his head (there was at least a twenty centimeters height difference), piercing him with his narrow slits. Dante tried to take that stare with his casual friendliness or at least composure, however, it failed as quickly as the inspector opened his mouth.

'What am I not as surprised to see you?', he spitted. Literally; the drops of his saliva fell onto Dante's face, much to his distaste. Out of two evils, he preferred being dribbled at by dogs in kind of the frisky Missy than humans. 'Well, let's think about it… Maybe 'cause I just knew it? Where a blast occurs, there always is Dante Vale around!', he added meanly, still eyeing him attentively. 'I guess I have heard too many stories about you and your flights of fancy recently to be shocked by another crazy adventure the others have to get you out of…'

Dante's face muscles froze as if someone had slapped him in the middle of forcing a smile. The spite which filled every word seemed to infect his ears and brain as well, just like the toxic gas of the Organization goon had done before. However, it felt far worse than the injuries he had gained during the scuffle. He wasn't used to such a treatment. He couldn't recall the last time when someone he had intended to approach as an ally had said such nasty things into his face, without any restraint or not in a teasing way.. Of course he wouldn't be comfortable with O'Donnell's methods of glorifying him, as he didn't see himself as a superstar who deserved only the praises, but the criticism should have at least been constructive. The way Murray's behavior contrasted that concept felt like lurching from one extreme to another. It shocked him even more because he had been preparing to look up to his senior and show him all his respect. However, he had expected a similarly fair response. Meanwhile he had gotten thrown mud at without any warning… He saw that man for the first time in his life and instead of exchanging greetings, the first thing he was exposed to was heard was hearing a chain of reproofs, like a strict nanny lecturing a naughty child?! He couldn't believe he hadn't misheard it. However, Brady's meaningful, 'I-told-you-so' peek only proved the words true.

'With all due respect', he said, trying to remain collected, balanced and not offensive at all, 'that accident was definitely not caused by unnecessary bravado. We were surprised by the danger awaiting us there, not triggering it. I guess no one could predict such a twist of fate…'

'No one?', Murray repeated with a mockingly sweet tone. 'Even you, Mr. Vale? You, the famous top Foundation operative? The pride of Huntik? A man of numerous talents? A flawless superhero, according to the rumors?', he enumerated, as if he had been throwing darts, each of them hitting the vital spot of his target; then underlined strongly: 'And, additionally, a licensed private investigator who should be aware of the perils and responsive for every suspicious signal? How come such reasoning failed you completely?', he pushed the point every further.

Vale lowered his head a bit, not pleased with what he had heard. Pointing out all the epithets people used to describe him in such a mocking manner wasn't exactly necessary. After all, he didn't see himself as a self-appointed celebrity nor could control what people talked about him. Of course, some of the remarks were justified – for example, he deserved a tell-off for being too submissive towards Scarlet, not standing his ground more stubbornly, ignoring Zhalia's protests towards the whole project and thus, engaging them all in such a twisted story. However, handing down a sentence before hearing his version of the events or accusing him of neglecting the essential safety procedures was far below fair.

'Sir', he said, putting all the effort to push that word through his throat, 'we contributed to every security measurements possible before entering the tomb. We resorted to both natural and Seeker-associated methods', he highlighted; he had a hunch that Murray's lid twitched when he mentioned the ways involving powers, but carried on nevertheless: 'However, they couldn't guarantee that we would prevail against the other human's slyness and the force he us…'

'You forgot about one precaution', Murray interrupted him brashly. 'Keeping away from the trouble spot. And that's what reflects me the most. Wasn't it you yourself who warned us yesterday evening about the threat of the Organization occupying the Meath County and suggesting to avoid that area unless it gets properly checked and secured by our forces?', he reminded Vale, raising his voice to let everyone hear that, and continued crescendo: 'Everyone followed the ban, except of you and your comrades. What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Vale? Did the last events strain your common sense? Or maybe you allowed yourself to ignore it completely on your own free will? However, I can't find any sufficient reason for a grown-up man to go against the rules the rest of his colleagues obeyed…', he drawled meaningfully while the surrounding people's attention focused completely on the clash. 'Unless that man thinks that his magic tricks can do wonders and call him back from the verge of death, just with a swing of the wand.'

Dante had a feeling that carrying that fierce discussion any longer only went against him. He was quite adept in bruising arguments due to his past encounters and recent acquaintance with the hot-tempered Zhalia, however, he met as a formidable opponent. Every sharp sentence he made was confronted with Murray's incisive remark, turning the tables on him. Moreover, due to his age, experience and established position, implicating the possession of support area, he was on the upper hand when it came to keeping his emotions in check. Murray sewed his insults among the words of a reasonable man, effectively blurring the wits of those who listened to him, convincing them that he was only concentrated on the Foundation's weal, even when he was verbally running people over. There was no triumph against a person who clawed his way to success. If the matter was less urgent, Dante would proudly stand his ground, protecting his beliefs and fighting against the point of view that he found disgusting, but now he knew that someone should be wiser and put an end to that meaningless scuffle. Time worked against them all. Instead of carrying that confrontation on, they should resolve their differences and join forces to defeat their mutual enemy. The only method to achieve that appeared to be moving the battle to a field he didn't know well – diplomacy and good will.

'Inspector Murray, sir', Dante spoke, gathering all his inner balance, 'it's impossible for me to undo what happened here. However, I can do my best to bring an end to it. If you need any hints helpful in the investigation, there won't be a better guide than operative Moon', he suggested. 'Operative Byrne also hold some observations that might be proved useful. I'm sure both of them will cooperate effectively when they get better', he said loudly, as if he had wanted to drown the sound of the previous harmful words still carried by the wind blowing through the hills. 'As for myself, I can contribute to work at instant, if needed', he strained the truth, aware that the half of an hour the nurse had estimated hadn't passed yet.

'What is your answer? Do you accept my offer?', he asked again, pushing such thoughts away.

The inspector observed him distrustfully, as if he had suspected him of hiding a nasty trick from all the audience and then pulling it out in the least expected moment. Dante didn't imagine that a man in his state – in a dirty duster ripped on both sleeves and jagged at the edge, catching shallow breaths as every deeper one caused his irritated insides to twitch and his face like a clay mask – could be a threat for anyone, but to underline his peaceful stance, he let his arms hang loose down his sides, showing both empty palms. Seeing that, Murray just sighed and smirked unpleasantly.

'_OFFER_, you say?', he repeated, still in the same spiteful manner. 'Don't you think too highly of yourself, Mr. Vale? You shouldn't be the one _offering_ me anything right now. Giving an evidence is your duty as a suspect, after all...'

'Excuse me?!', Vale choked out. 'A _SUSPECT_?!'

'What makes you so surprised, Mr. Vale?', Murray asked with a mocking politeness of a Santa Claus who had visited a little angel-like child and instead of a dream present had brought a cane. 'All of your team is under supervision for now, unless we determine your evidences match the exact proceeding of events we recreated…', he explained calmly.

However, his serenity didn't have any influence on Dante, other than enraging him more, of course.

'I thought you need to know more about the attacker, apart from the info we shared with you in passing!', he burst out, ignoring the alarming pain in his right side. 'Instead, I've just learned that I'm accused of the crime I didn't commit and my teammates are also treated like culprits! What for?! They're not criminals, but victims of that accident, and I demand to treat them adequately to their status!'

'Unluckily, you cannot demand anything, Mr. Vale…', Murray started with a twisted pleasure as he observed Dante's apparent indigation.

'Sir…', McKenna finally regained his voice, interrupting him, 'I think Mr. Vale has the point… I'm not a specialist in investigation, but I assume that anyone participating in such a suicidal mission on purpose, apart from the Organization daredevils, denies the logic.'

Murray threw him a stare that could better fit a cockroach found on a table stool.

'I see that Brady's companionship really narrowed your horizons, McKenna', he responded coldly as if the Cracker hadn't been there anymore. 'You start to build your world view on television pap and trashy thrillers following the same scheme. You better keep stuck to your line of work and leave the chase to me and my men… unless you can explain why a grown-up, seemingly sane woman decides to cause the explosion which could turn half of the area into rubble.'

'What?!', Dante snarled. Murray had a sketchy overview on the state of affairs if he mistook even the gender of the main originator of the underground commotion.

The inspector reached to his pocket and drew out a small plastic bag. Something flashed weakly through the transparent material. When Dante took a closer look, he noticed a screwed metal bundle which probably had been a tube before, but now resembled a bizarre flower with a straight stem and jagged petals, created by a blast from the inside.

'We found two set of fingerprints here. One of them isn't recorded in our database, but the other… it's certainly Zhalia Moon's', he finished, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.

'No', Dante whispered with his numb lips. 'That was impossible… ridiculous!', he threw what exactly appeared in his brain, not minding what he voiced. 'How on earth would have Zhalia managed to get the payload? And, damn it, she wouldn't have been so risky to use it, not knowing how it worked! What for?! To entertain herself during the kidnap?! Speaking of which, would an accomplice let herself be held hostage or risk her life in explosions?! Besides, how come the shell survived the explosion? Of course it can't be real… It must be faked! There's no way Zhalia would…'

'The investigation would demonstrate that', Murray hid the token back into his pocket, seemingly content with its influence on his victim. 'Now we're over with chatters, let's get to the serious business already. Connolly, Whelan, requisition the suspect's weapons.'

'Sir, I don't think that's necessa…', McKenna started, but silenced when Murray's assistants pushed him back, leaving their spots next to the entrance and rushing to Dante like two obedient hounds. Vale raised his guard quickly, his fists glistened in the dimness as Dragonfist engulfed them in its energy.

'Not a step forward!', he warned them, looking at them above his clenched knuckles; he wasn't sure if the crimson mist covering his sight was the spell's brightness, the sign of trauma or fury taking over him by rushes of blood pumping into his temples.

'I advise you to contribute to the procedure, Mr. Vale', Murray said in a father-like manner, just like a murderer would try to convince a child to come with him. 'It wouldn't be wise to worsen your situation by resistance.'

'My surrender would be convenient for sure!', Dante growled sarcastically. 'However, you've got a back luck! I'm not a mindless dimwit who would follow your orders in fear! I know our rights! We are entitled to contact our lawyers and relatives before you proceed! You can't do anything by force!'

'Oh, can't I?', Murray smiled disgustingly sweet and nodded to his minions.

They reacted like dogs off a leash or cyborgs with their buttons pushed, or a mix of animal and a machine, prepared exactly to receive and fulfill orders, mostly brutal. One of them pounced at Dante, but before he crushed his prey with his weight, Vale received an unexpected support. Brady barred the goon's way and pushed him astray with all his momentum. The two landed on the ground and rolled aside in a mass of limbs; Brady stopped laying on his back, cursing and holding his bleeding nose.

'Brady, you idiot!', McKenna shouted with panic, rushing to his friend. 'Stay out of this!'

'An unexpectedly wise advice', Murray admitted, then added proudly like a Caesar watching bloody games: 'Keep away, boy, and maybe I will show you my clemency…'

'Screw you!', Brady growled unclearly, crawling on the ground. 'I don't give a damn about all your insults, but you're attacking a stretcher case, you c*nts! Get off me!', he pushed McKenna away so hard that the doctor lost his balance; on his trembling legs, he made few steps and finally fell onto Dante standing few meters away. Accidentally pushing his elbow right into his abdomen.

It was as if a huge bonfire had been ignited on the staging of Vale's ribs; the smell of burning meat was easily imaginable. The Seeker gasped for breath when he felt like choking with his own saliva and guts. He tripped, losing his balance and slipping onto the ground like a heavy, inert sack of stones, with his limbs barely able to soften the fall. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, his breath shortened, the spit created a small puddle between his hands when he panted, waiting for his lungs to slide through his throat and swat onto his fingers, temporary blinded and paralyzed. Now he knew why the nurse insisted on him following the orders and warned him about the sensitivity of the wound.

'Thank you, Brady!', Murray commented as the Cracker landed next to Dante and McKenna, thrown there by his persecutor. 'You've been useful at last! However, your brave performance would cost you your freedom… I would gladly lock you in the jail for your entire life!'

'What for?!', the young man screamed, unable to tame the nosebleed. 'It was you who attacked an irenic guy first, damn it!'

'Who could prove your words right?', Murray smirked. 'Me, Whelan and McKenna can only admit that you laid onto an official, helping a suspect!'

'But sir...!', McKenna protested, getting up and staring at the victims in horror. He intended to lean over them and help Brady tame the hemorrhage.

'If you touch any of them, you can say goodbye to your appointment', Murray warned him sharply. 'Helping the troublemakers doesn't look good in CV.'

McKenna froze with his hand in his breast pocket, halfway during taking out a handkerchief. He gazed at the Cracker, the inspector, then back at the young man with his face smeared in red, as well as both his hands. Brady gave the stare back, pressing his sleeve to his nose.

'Go on, Bren', he mumbled blearily.

McKenna parted his lips, still not taking his eyes off him. Then, he closed his mouth and swallowed hardly. Eventually, he took a step back, hunched and cheerless, as if he had been carrying a significant weight on his shoulders, still looking at his friend apologetically. Strangely, Brady didn't seem surprised. He just nodded shortly directly to McKenna, with his eyes as unmoved as before.

Dante thought he was dreaming. He felt as if he had experienced a nasty nightmare, in kind of those when the dreamer finds himself in the court as the guilty one, oblivious to the crime he had committed, standing before the grand jury, a group of silent spectators who observed him detachedlylike any other object in the room, pitied him or hated him just for opposing the status quo, and the judge who could decide on his fate with one swing of his gavel. Now the situation was dreadfully similar, though way more serious as he couldn't hope to wake up soon. He looked in the inspector's deep-set eyes and understood his intentions at instant. Although unbelievable, they were as clear as the water in mountain lakes. Murray wanted to humiliate him in front of everyone he and his team had dragged here in their cause. He wanted to strip him off authority he carried among his co-workers due to his position. What for? Unlike his dreams, in reality there had to be a reason…

He couldn't gather his thoughts to think of any, his brain screamed in protest when he tried to kick it back into working normally, not taking his breath, cooling his inflamed guts, easing his nausea and keeping his head from becoming too heavy to lift it... There was no way he would manage to stay up any longer... but he had to, he couldn't let Murray escape without any explanations why he was turning the rescue into another trap...

Though he didn't find the answer he sought, he gained something as important: a proof that no matter how warped and hopeless the state of affairs might have looked like, there was a major difference from the circumstances he could find himself in during the night visions of doom. He wasn't alone. He suddenly received support from the least expected direction.

'WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!', a female voice reached him as if from a huge distance, though for the others it was probably loud and piercing enough to bristle the hairs on their necks. 'WHO LET YOU ALL IN?! AND… OH MY GOD!'

He reached his limit and slumped inertly, not controlling his muscles anymore. However, he didn't hit against the ground; his head landed on something soft, his shoulders supported by a reliable sturdiness. Before his lids fell down, too heavy to lift them any longer, he noticed a curtain of blonde hair falling onto his cheeks from a snip of whiteness and a contrasting smirch spotted with red dots right above.

'Hang on there', he heard like from the bottom of a hundred miles deep well.

_Don't worry about me... Just warn the others_, he thought, but didn't manage to voice it before losing consciousness.


	20. STORY SUSPENDED

...but don't worry, I guess that only till June 19th, when my examination ends [formally, if I wouldn't have to re-take anything]. I'd like to continue working on the chapter, but right now, I have to focus on passing this year, in order to be free during the holidays. Please, stay patient for a while. I promise I'll make up for all the delays during the spare time.

Yours,  
Sha


End file.
